What Was Left Unsaid
by kaleidocat
Summary: Craig’s high school years. A different take on after he is removed from the Manning household. What if Craig abused drugs/alcohol at a younger age? What if Albert was more involved past season 2? Find out here. Focused on Craig's family situation.
1. The New Kid

**What Was Left Unsaid  
**

**Authors Note: **You are about to read something started back in 2004 and I've decided to finish it off and try to fill the gaps. It's basically Craig Manning rewritten. Because I liked the child abuse storyline, hated the jerk he was in Season 3, and just not buying into the rock star storyline. Instead you'll be getting tons of Craig/Joey interaction as Craig tries to have somewhat of a normal life. He's not the most popular kid who gets all the girls this time around; he's actually a borderline freak because of the issues that the abuse has left him with and some out of control behavior. I think this is more believable than the whole school not having some idea of what he's been through. There's also a splash of Crash. He's no cheater this time around, but still has a hard time keeping his girl Ashley. Ashley would be the most dominant player after Joey, then probably friends Sean, Ellie, Marco, and Jimmy. It's mainly told from Craig's point of view.

The first two chapters will be the only ones that will have descriptions of what took place in the episodes.

* * *

**1. The New Kid**

Craig Manning was crouched close to the ground, in-between the bushes. One hand was wrapped around the lens of his camera, frantically twisting to adjust the focus. He could barely see the figures of his stepfather, Joey Jeremiah, and his half sister, Angela. He watched as the blurry form of Angie wiggled out of the frame. It was that moment where he knew that he was going to be late for dinner, his father would no doubt be upset, and he really should go. The image in the lens was clear now and he could see the big smile on his stepfather's face and Angie bopped back into the frame and flooded it with bubbles.

"More bubbles," Joey encouraged. The day suddenly felt warmer and brighter for Craig. His finger quickly pressed down on the shutter release button to capture the moment. It was dark for a moment and then there they were again, the family Craig wanted. Craig's breath caught in his throat; Joey was standing up and looking in his direction. Craig immediately bolted from the scene and headed for home.

"Craigger!" He heard his father call from the dining room the second he was in the door. He started to evaluate his mood. He was using that nickname and that was a good sign. He'd understand. You can make him understand, Craig tried to reassure himself as he set his camera and bag down on the kitchen table and pulled off his coat. "Hey dad."

"What happened to six o'clock?" Dr. Albert Manning asked, his tone full of disappointment but also a bit of astonishment. He was his son, why didn't he want to be here on time to enjoy dinner with him?

"I know. Uh…I'm sorry. It's just, the light outside, late summer, incredible," Craig said with a small smile on his face, hoping that would be a solid excuse. It wasn't working though, judging from the tilt of Albert's head and…Craig's body tensed up…was he grinding his teeth? "And I just…uh…"

"Got distracted and missed dinner," Albert finished, his stare fixed on his son.

"Yeah…uh…Dad, I'm sorry," Craig said, his eyes shifting rapidly from his father to his plate and then back to his father.

Albert shook his head. He was not going to lose control of his son. He was just like his mother, his ex-wife. Why could they not think of him every once in awhile? And was it so hard to follow a simple request to make an appearance at a family dinner? Albert shoved his plate onto the floor. He watched Craig jump, almost completely out of his seat. Finally, he got his attention. "When I say six o'clock, I don't care how great the light is, you're home!" Albert said and slapped his hand on the table for emphasis. "Do you understand me?" He asked, although it was more of a command. He stood up and headed out of the dining room. "Just clean it up!"

Craig's breath caught in his throat and he couldn't move. He listened to the front door slam and just sat there for a few minutes, simply trying to gain control over his rapid heartbeat and breathe regularly. The fear was starting to fade some. Craig glanced over the broken ceramic dishes on the floor and the mess of food, some of it pressed deep into the carpet because his father stomped through it. Craig sighed. You'd think he'd be used to this by now. He started to feel the anger build up rising up from his chest and filling his head. And the way that he'd jumped? He always did that. Jumping and ducking and being afraid. It was fine when he was a little kid, but now?

Craig stood up and trudged to the kitchen to retrieve the wastebasket. He angrily threw the larger pieces of ceramic dishes into the trash. "Damn it," he muttered as he realized he'd cut his finger. He sat there and watched the blood slowly trickle out. The depression was settling in now. He felt it weigh down on him and he slowly dropped down. He sat there, staring at the mess. So tonight was going to be spent cleaning this up, scrubbing the mashed potatoes out of the carpet, doing the dishes, and worrying about what would happen when his father got home. And to top it all off, tomorrow was his first day at Degrassi. Why couldn't his father be here to support him with that? Why did he always make it about him? Who was this man he lived with anyway?

"Thanks for the lift," Craig said and got out of the car. He laid awake almost all of last night, worrying. He wasn't sure when he had finally dozed off; he only knew that his dad woke him up with light tapping on his bedroom door.

"Okay, you need a lift tonight?" Albert asked.

"No. No. I…uh…I can make it home," Craig said, thinking about his half-sister Angela. He had recently discovered the daycare she was at while Joey was at work. He had made several visits and gone unnoticed. His father was a bigger obstacle. "I'll be on time tonight," Craig reassured.

"Okay. Good luck today, sport."

Craig nodded, unsure if this moment of affection was a public show, an act of affection cause he felt guilty for the previous night, or it was actually coming from the heart. He started to move towards the school entrance. Oh yeah, this was going to be fun, he thought and stared up at the building.

The crowded school wasn't making finding his way around any easier. He was grateful for once that his father was a punctuality freak and insisted he arrive early for his first day. The attendance office was fairly easy to find, but the Media Immersion lab was another story.

Craig stumbled into another student as he stared down at the map the school secretary had given him. Craig looked him over as the student asked, "Is Degrassi a high school and a blind school this year?"

"Sorry, man, I'm lost," Craig tried to explain, his tone friendly and casual.

"Buy a map," the student replied in an annoyed tone.

Craig held up the map. "I've already got one. I'm not blind…just…uh…" Craig was distracted as two female students walked in-between them.

"Hey boys," a brunette greeted as she passed.

"Who's the new guy?" her friend asked. "Hey cutie."

"Directionally challenged," Craig finished. "MI lab?"

The student was smiling at him now. "Here, I'll show you."

"I'm Craig," he introduced as they walked side by side through the halls.

"Sean," he replied.

"This is crazy…" Craig muttered as he avoided another collision with another student. "Having the junior and high schools merge."

"Tell me about it. Like they could rub it in my face another that I'm still in junior high."

"Oh. I thought you were in 9 or 10."

"Nope. Had to repeat grade 7," Sean stated and watched Craig closely. There was no sign of judgment on his face at all. This guy might be okay, he decided. He did feel comfortable around him. It was almost like he knew him already.

"That sucks," Craig decided on saying. He watched as a dark haired, dark clothed girl met Sean's eyes and then quickly looked away. He stopped walking and stood next to Sean. Whoever it was, it was enough to stop him dead in his tracks. He watched her enter a classroom. Then he decided on saying, "You know her? Ex?"

"Ahhh, something like that."

"She's cute," Craig said with a nod of approval. "One good thing about Degrassi, hot girls. I've been deprived of the female race for too long. Private school."

Sean's stomach turned at the sound of that. Must be a rich kid if he went to private school. He tried to ignore that. "Her name is Ashley." Sean gestured to the door. "This is the MI lab."

"Oh," Craig realized. So he didn't stop dead in his tracks because of Ashley. He felt a little relieved at that. School was such a sweet escape, having these feelings made him feel almost normal. He knew he wasn't normal though, because of home. "Well, thanks, man," Craig said and started in the classroom.

"No problem. See you around," Sean said and disappeared into the crowd.

"Late night last night, huh Craig?"

Craig sat up with a jolt. Don't think about why, he ordered himself. "Uh…very late night, Sir. I kept waking up, in anticipation, of…well, this exact moment, Sir"

"Yeah, well save the-z's for home, okay?" Mr. Simpson replied.

Craig was relieved when the teacher continued on with his first day of school speech. "Remember today is a half day, tomorrow is not…" Craig ran his hand through his hair and sighed.

There was no limit on the awkward moments of his first day. Craig hung out alone in the hall in-between homeroom and his English class, staring down at the floor. He was cool with one guy. This wasn't so bad.

"So get it fixed."

"Yeah but that will cost like 80 bucks. I have 50 put away but my evil parents are insisting that I clean out the garage for the rest. Hello, child labor."

Craig glanced up at that conversation. He thought he recognized them from homeroom. The blonde was Paige, he remembered. "You know, there are laws against child labor."

The group of girls glanced back. "Okay, thanks Mr. News at Five," Paige replied.

"Cute," he overheard one declare as they turned away.

"Very," the other approved as they walked away.

"Try deranged," Paige declared.

Craig looked away. That went well. He turned to head in the opposite direction and nearly bumped into Ashley. He opened his mouth to speak but she picked up the pace and didn't even look at him.

"Guys! Hey!" Craig heard her shout.

That went even better, Craig thought, sighed, and sulked off.

Craig and Sean bumped into each other at the end of the school day, near their lockers. Craig offered to buy him lunch at a nearby burger joint, but was quick to end their time hanging out. He had to get over to Angie's daycare. He was anxious to see his little sister. Sean was a bit puzzled by the brush off. "You can't see her on the weekends and stuff?"

"No, my dad doesn't like me to be around her or my step dad. My mom passed away when I was 12, so…uh…I guess he figures there's no reason for me to see them if she's not there," Craig replied and tried to shrug off the hurt. Joey was the one who helped him deal with her passing on. Lately, there were nights when he'd wake himself up crying and wish that he could talk to his step dad about his mother, even if it was just one five minute conversation. He didn't know how to deal with the memories of his mother that appeared in the form of a dream. Those nice moments were too much of a shock. When he was awake, the best way to slowly allow his mother into his thoughts was to be around Angie.

Craig smiled as he watched the kids spill out onto the playground. He noticed Angie right away. He could see his mother in her. It wasn't just the curls or her nose; it was the bounce in her step, and the way she found everything exciting. He snapped a few pictures as he approached the fence. His smile grew as he watched her notice him.

"Craig!" she shouted and skipped over to him. "You've been gone forever."

"I knoooow, but summer's over, I'm back from camp, and now you won't ever get away from me," Craig said, raised his camera, and peered through the viewfinder. "Okay, say bad donkey breath."

"Bad donkey breath," Angie replied with a giggle and hammed it up for the camera with a grin. "Let me take yours."

"Who me? I'll break the camera," Craig said and handed Angie the camera.

"Remember how to use it? One hand there," Craig instructed in a gentle voice, his lips still in a small smile. He made a goofy face at his stepsister, who gave him a weird look as she passed the camera back.

"Daddy and me are going to visit mommy," Angie declared. "Want to come?"

"Just…ummm…tell her I miss her. Okay? Hey, you can't tell your dad about us meeting, alright?" Craig said.

"I promise. Always, always."

"Angela!" Craig looked up at the sound of an unfamiliar female voice.

That was his cue. Before bolting he declared, "I love you kid."

Craig wasn't sure of the time they'd arrive at the cemetery, so he spent most of the afternoon there. He was sure that Joey worked from the usual 9-5, but he didn't dare take the chance. He had to see them. He spent awhile just wandering around, snapping a few pictures of old tombstones and old oak trees. Then he'd settled down in front of his mother's grave. He mostly held the conversation in his head, but the emotion was building and he couldn't help but whisper,

"I just wish that I could be a better son and he'd love me more, you know? Angie has Joey…I wish I had someone like that. You guys were so perfect. They still are perfect, the perfect family."

It was that moment that he remembered what he was doing here and hurried off to find the best hiding space for picture taking.

"That's a lot of yellow, Angie," Joey said as he glanced over the bouquet of flowers they had picked out at the florists before heading over.

"That was Mommy's favorite color, remember?" Craig heard Angela say in her sweet soft voice. He started snapping pictures.

"Yes I do," Joey replied. God, Craig sighed inside, if only my father would use that nice of tone with me. He was getting too close to them, emotionally. Just concentrate on the shot, Craig urged himself. His camera was his shield, his filter, and his microscope all at once.

"Do you think she misses us?"

"Oh, I know she does. Just as much as we miss her."

"But do you think she likes it up in Heaven? Craig said that…" Angie realized her mistake and stopped. She put her small fingers over her lips.

"Craig said what? Honey, did you see Craig?"

"No. I didn't. I promise."

"Come on, sweetie. Tell me the truth," Joey encouraged.

Craig felt Joey's gaze burn into him. He slowly stood up, not taking his eyes off Joey. He could barely hear Joey speak to Angie, "Stay right here okay? Craig?" It was then Craig bolted, running faster than ever before. He heard Joey shout again. Just get as far away from the yelling as you can, he told himself. He darted through the cemetery, the wind and his willpower drying his eyes. Don't you dare cry about this, Craig ordered, it doesn't matter that Joey's angry with you now too. You just screw up and it's what happens. It doesn't matter.

He took refuge in his darkroom. He spent the rest of the day there, trying to get the perfect print. He needed a photo where he was blended into the image with his stepfather and stepsister. When he finally got it, it was like that afternoon never happened. He pulled his scrapbook out of its hiding space, the one titled "The Perfect Family," and carefully placed the new photo inside. Next to his camera, this book was his prized possession. It was the only photos he had of his mother, stepfather, and stepsister. He had to sneak the photos of his stepfamily into the house and had dug the ones of his mother out of the trash. His father had purged his mother out of their house was the divorce was final. He preferred to pretend she didn't even exist. Unfortunately he was a reminder of that and the anger of being abandoned often was inflicted on him.

"Hey sport! Are you ready to eat? Craig?" He heard his dad calling and immediately started to collect the stray prints around the darkroom.

"Uh… yeah. Uh…I'm…just…coming," Craig replied and shoved the book away.

Craig could sense that his father was in a good mood or else still feeling guilty for his outburst the night before. He knew he should say something. Don't hesitate too long, he warned himself. He'll think that you don't appreciate him and you know that will get you more than a stern lecture.

"Wow, roast beef, mashed potatoes, Yorkshire pudding," Craig said with a smile.

"Your favorite!" was dad's reply.

He was in a great mood, Craig realized. He took a few bites; his stomach had settled some. He was feeling okay. "Yeah, totally. I love roast beef. Remember how Mom used to make it?"

Craig's soft smile faded once he saw the look of annoyance on his father's face. Craig clenched his fork. Of all the things to say, he scolded himself. He couldn't help it that he thought about her so much.

Albert decided to shrug Craig's comment off and continued with "So how was the first day? Make any friends?"

"Yeah, one guy. Sean. He's cool."

"That's great. Listen, there was a message on the machine today."

"For me?"

"No, for me. From Joey Jeremiah. Any thoughts, any ideas, on why he might be calling?" Albert decided to give his son an opportunity to fess up.

Craig swallowed a piece of his roast beef, barely chewing it. He shook his head.

"You didn't call him?" Albert Manning asked, doubtful. What was he going to do with this kid? When would he ever be able to trust a word that came out of his mouth?

"Dad, come on. Why would I call Joey?" Craig said.

"Why would your mother leave a surgeon for a used car salesman, Craigger? I mean, the mysteries of the universe are infinite to me," Albert said bitterly.

"Well, I didn't…I didn't call. Promise," Craig reassured. He was going to need to say more than that, he knew. He knew what to say, but it was hard to spit it out. "I'm not… um…I'm not like Mom, okay? So…uh…you going to call him back?"

"Now, why would I do that?" Albert said, but he knew that something was going to have to be done about it. Maybe he should pay that used car salesman a visit and get to the bottom of what was really going on. God help Craig, that ungrateful little brat, if he was lying...

Craig stood outside his house and tried to prepare himself for what was about to happen. Today was a disaster. In an effort to spend more time with Angie, he had become friends with Emma Nelson, her babysitter. It had gotten an invite to Emma's mother's birthday party, and after making sure that Joey wouldn't be there, he'd gone. It was great at first, coloring the sidewalk with chalk with Angie and playing games, but then Joey arrived unexpectedly. He had confronted Craig about his visits with Angie and informed him that his father had stopped by the dealership.

Why would Joey do this to him? Why did he have to call his dad? He'd angrily stalked off that afternoon, ignoring Joey's attempt to explain himself. Joey was partially to blame for what was about to happen. This was why he didn't want Joey to know he was seeing Angela. He'd betray him and rat him out to his dad.

Time to face the music. Craig went inside, pausing in the entry way to glance around. He cautiously moved forward and paused in the kitchen doorway. His father was sitting at the table. His hands were folded tensely together and his head bowed over in concentration or frustration. Craig didn't want to know which.

"I'm going down to my darkroom," Craig told his father, after observing how intense his father looked. Craig paused for a reply. His father did not move. Craig opened his mouth, but found no words. He didn't know if he should explain something or apologize or merely ask how he was.

Craig quickly went downstairs and quietly opened the darkroom door. His mouth dropped open as he saw the place was trashed. Craig stepped inside, looking at the mess. He dropped his bag down to the floor and gripped his camera tightly in one hand. His thoughts became frantic: where to go, what to do next, should I apologize, what did I do. He didn't hear Albert come up behind him.

"Are you looking for something?" Albert asked.

Craig whirled around and saw Albert waving Craig's scrapbook filled with pictures of Joey, Angela, his mother, and himself. The scrapbook with the words 'perfect family' scrawled on inside it.

"What are you doing?" Craig asked.

Albert began to slap Craig with the book, repeatedly hitting his shoulders and arms. Craig raised his arms up to block his face, dropping his precious Nikon camera in the process.

"Are you looking for something?" Albert repeated as he threw the book aside and slammed Craig up against a shelf. Craig stared at his dad with wide eyes.

Photography equipment fell to the floor. Amid the crash and shatter of glass, Craig breathlessly asked "What are you doing?"

His father gripped him tightly by his wrists and held him for a moment, enough time for him to gasp. He knew something worse was bound to happen, it always did.

"I worked my ass off for you," Albert said as he gripped him. He could not believe his son would betray him like this.

Albert threw him down to the floor. Craig landed forcefully on his stomach and chest and gasped for air. He didn't have time to move.

"What do I get?" Albert demanded as he kicked Craig in the stomach.

Craig groaned from the blow and made a quick attempt to pick himself up. Another kick brought him back down as Albert angrily asked, "What do I get in return?"

"I get rudeness," He continued and gave another kick. Craig let out a little yell at the sharp pain.

I get lies." Albert said. Another kick accompanied that. Craig replied with another small cry of pain.

"I get this!" Albert concluded with a final kick.

Albert stopped and threw a chair across the room. He paused to look at his son, who still lay on the floor, gasping for air. He watched as Craig made an attempt to lift himself up off the floor, but gave up quickly and stayed laying there. Craig felt like he couldn't breathe and was terrified. The pain was coming on strong and he fought back the tears. He glanced back at his dad who stood in the doorway. After another weak attempt to get up, he let his head drop back down to the floor and a sob escaped his throat. He lay motionless on the floor, trying to avoid increasing the pain.

The rest of the night was quiet with Albert in his study and Craig in his room, the door securely locked. He spent most of the time lying flat on his back on his bed; he found that was the most comfortable position. He kept one hand on the scrapbook he'd managed to save and the other was used to wipe away tears. He was relieved that his father hadn't made him dinner. Breathing was painful enough, he couldn't imagine eating. And he didn't want to be anywhere near the man right now.

But the inevitable happened and he had to go to school the next day and his father would be providing the ride. He also provided him with the only apology he knew how to give – money for the camera that was broken the day before. Craig was touched by this moment (he had to care somewhat to make the effort to get on his good side) and also a little sickened (he felt bribed). But he'd accepted the cash anyway, his mind already working around plans for escaping.

For the time being, school was a good enough escape. He was sure that his cat naps and talking with other students during class seemed like average teenage behavior to his teachers. But the truth was that he was so deprived of a good nights rest and normal human interaction that he had to try to stock up on what he could during school. Sometimes faking it almost convinced him that things were okay. But there were always reminders. His developing friendships with Ashley and Sean would probably play out differently if things were different at home.

"So do you want to come over for dinner sometime this week?" Ashley asked.

"Sure!"

Craig kicked himself later. Ever since he had missed dinner two weeks ago, his father had been adamant about him having dinner with him, exactly at six. And he had to clear the table and do the dishes, exactly at half past. His father was a creature of habit and lately he was walking on egg shells more than usual. He knew he couldn't mention it was dinner at a girl's house. His father would want to meet her and that would not go over well, especially with Ashley's growing interest in all things black and gothic. Craig sighed, nothing was ever simple here.

He decided to ask if he could join a photography club and go out for pizza with the group after. He'd made sure to ask after his father had recently given him a new CD player, which was his way of apologizing for the beating he'd been given the night before. He was sweet Craigger right now, the Craigger who needed to know Dad still loved him…and of course Dad said yes. Then he just had to make up a lie to give to the instructor about needing to miss the photography meeting and he'd be with Ash for the whole afternoon and part of the evening.

Craig tried not to think about the way he communicated with his father. It made him feel a little sick. But what was he supposed to do? It was how things worked. It all felt worth it once he was with Ashley. The bruises seemed to ache a lot less and his heart felt a bit lighter. He refused to think about how attractive and smart he thought Ashley was. There was no way he could have normal thoughts like this, he wasn't normal. If Ashley could only see the bruises and welts on his skin, she'd know what he really was- he was pathetic. His home life was tainting all this.

As the evening progressed, he was starting to realize how much of a freak he really was. He felt strangely protective over Ashley when it came to her stepfather. For instance, he was fully prepared to injure his hand to prevent the door from slamming. After all, wouldn't the noise anger him? But the family dinner proved to him just how different his life was. Ashley was free to voice her opinions and there wasn't uneasiness in the air. Her stepbrother Toby could arrive late with a friend and not be reprimanded. Instead, his friend was offered a place at dinner. He had to get out of there, before the depression made him so weak that he couldn't move. Giving Ashley a feeble goodbye, he'd wandered home. He couldn't stay there.

Having friends was becoming more and more of a challenge. He was hesitant to give out his phone number; he knew that someone would call late at night and that would certainly guarantee him a vicious beating. His address only went out to Sean. He felt bad for thinking it, but he figured that him being a "rich kid" and Sean being from the other side of the tracks, so to speak, was enough to keep him away. But it didn't go according to plan.

"Sean," Craig said and then felt bad because of the unfriendliness in his voice. "What are you doing here?"

Sean gave Craig a strange look. Was he ashamed to have him around his family? "Is it okay? I mean, Tracker basically kicked me out of the house."

Craig forced a smile. His dad was out for a few hours, it'd be okay. "Come in."

"Wow, nice house," Sean said as he stepped inside.

Craig shrugged. "You want a tour?" he said sarcastically and led him into the living room. He flipped on the TV and sat down on the leather couch. He noticed that Sean sat down awkwardly. He had a feeling that Sean was getting hung up on the whole money thing. As Craig flipped through the channels he wondered what to do. Sean didn't know that the nice furniture and satellite TV just made things seem like he had it all. Everything was a show. And he wasn't being a very good actor, he realized and quickly started a light hearted conversation.

Sean noticed a severe shift in Craig's demeanor when they heard the rumble of the garage door. Sean tried to figure it out. It couldn't be that he was ashamed of his friend who lived in a run-down apartment with his brother. There was too much fear in his eyes.

"Please leave," Craig pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper.

Sean was taken back by this sudden mood swing. "Oh, okay," he decided on saying and slowly began to move towards the front door. He was shocked when he felt Craig forcibly grab his forearm.

"Back door," he mumbled. Craig gave a firm tug on Sean, guiding him through the living room and into the kitchen. He cringed when he heard the car door slam. Craig tried to stop his hands from shaking as he fumbled with the lock and then the door knob. He could feel Sean's eyes on him and refused to meet his gaze. This whole situation was degrading. Please don't notice my fear, Craig silently pleaded. And please go before you see something happen.

Sean quickly stepped out, "Okay, I'll see you…"

"Go!" Craig stated loudly, but had enough sense not to shout. He quickly shut the door and started to busy himself in the kitchen. He casually looked up as his father entered the kitchen and set the mail and his keys down on the table. "Hey dad. How was your day?" he said as casually as possible.

"Who was just here?" Albert demanded and stalked over to his son. He gave him a good shove and pressed him up against the refrigerator.

"Sean. He just…stopped by…" Craig managed to say, even though it hurt to get the words out with his father's arm pressed on his chest like that.

"You know you have to have permission."

"I…didn't…uh…I didn't know he…" Craig tried again. His father released him and even before Craig could make an attempt to move away, his father had a firm grip on his arm and was yanking him upstairs.

"You keep lying to me!"

He pushed him hard down to the floor of his bedroom. He whimpered an apology but it was too late. He watched as his father was taking off his belt. The only thing he could be thankful for was that he got Sean out of the house when he did. He knew his father wouldn't wait for him to leave and there was no way he could ever look Sean in the face again if he heard this.

Craig was thankful that Sean didn't mention it the next day. He had decided he would argue that his father was just strict, but he didn't have the energy to develop the lie any further. He always felt so tired. It was almost like a part of him was hollow and it seemed to get deeper each day.

"You should really try out for the school team this year," Sean said as they fooled around on the basketball court.

Yeah, that would be fantastic. He could just imagine the stares from teammates as they looked over his bruised body. He felt the anger flare upward at Sean. He was the lucky one who could remove his shirt on a hot day while they worked up a sweat playing basketball. But Craig said, "I'm not really a team sport kind of guy."

Sean shrugged, "I didn't think I was either but it's cool." He tossed the basketball to Craig, who tossed it back. He went for a lay up, but completely missed the shot. Sean heard Craig laugh.

"Well maybe I should join the school team if you're the star player," Craig joked.

"Ahhh, I never said I was."

"I'll give the Panthers some hope," Craig joked and went for the basket. Sean attempted to block him and accidentally jabbed his sore ribs, which never had a chance to heal with the beatings become more and more frequent.

Craig nearly doubled over from the pain. "Ow! Man, this isn't hockey!"

"Oh, I'm sorry."

Craig had to restrain himself from lunging at Sean. This was all his fault. Last night was his fault. "For what? Being a total idiot?"

"Excuse me?" Sean asked, with a bewildered expression on his face.

Craig angrily tossed the ball at Sean. "Take it! You need the practice." He walked away as a quickly as he could. It was then that he knew that he better keep Sean away from him in case he knows something. He heard Sean call out his name but he didn't look back.

It was easier this way, really. Everything was growing far too complicated. He needed to simplify things and this was the best way to do it. Craig figured the less number of people paying attention to him, the better. He was always terrified that one day someone was going to notice how he could never casually sit down at his desk or that sometimes the back of the chair rubbed on his welts and he'd jerk forward. He decided he'd give up eating lunch in the caf. He couldn't take the chance that Sean or Ashley would sit down next to him and ask questions. Ashley. He couldn't even begin to think about her, especially how pretty and interesting he found her. It just reminded him of how pathetic he was and how screwed up things were getting.


	2. Quicker Than Darkness

**Authors Note:** There was spacing to separate the breaks in the last chapter but it didn't translate when I uploaded and I didn't check. Whoopsy! Alright, new chapter. Bringing on the angst!

* * *

**2. Quicker Than Darkness**

It was getting hard to separate the days. Sometimes Craig was scarcely aware of the moments he fell asleep and when he would wake up. Sometimes it was hard to tell if the moments of darkness were because night had fallen or because he'd blacked out from the pain. His head was normally a little fuzzy, either cause he simply refused to acknowledge that this was his reality or from lack of food. What the hell did he need to eat for? He certainly didn't need the strength because he never fought back. The anger he felt towards himself about that was phenomenal. If he could only take all the rage he felt when he was alone, silently wishing for his father's death, and just apply to those moments when his father came at him like an animal. He'd started to punish himself for it, bringing the razor across his wrists. He always stopped each slice before it got too close to his vein though. His father was disturbed when he'd found out and that brought on a wave of presents and encouragement to go out with his friends. But he didn't have any friends, not anymore. If Sean and Ashley were giving him looks that signaled they were approachable, he didn't see them. He didn't want to. He knew that his father's nice demeanor would shift and he had to be ready for it.

So there was his emergency stash. The shoe box contained the money his father would give him out of guilt, his perfect family scrapbook, and an assortment of pills he'd been sneaking out of the medicine cabinet. He knew from the labels that they were sedatives and painkillers. His father had even given them to him before, once he cooled down and realized that he took things too far. _"It's just like really strong Tylenol," his father had soothed, placing the pill on Craig's tongue and bringing a glass of water up to his lips. Craig's trembling slowly began to subside and his low crying tapered off, like the rain after a strong storm. He was just there, no pain. He was entirely empty now and it wasn't the lonely ache of emptiness he felt when he thought there was no where to turn. It was empty, like an unoccupied room, just empty and there. He didn't even care that his father remained next to him and usually that was the last person he wanted near him after something like this happened. _

These fatherly moments were his blind spot. He knew they were there, maybe not so much anymore, and he couldn't help but acknowledge them. And he was always looking for them, waiting for them. He was his father after all. Who else did he have? Joey had refused him, deciding that dad's rule of no contact was best. He had Angela, sort of. He was loosing his grip on her though. When he wasn't tired and achy, he'd flirt with Emma Nelson, who'd extend her babysitting duties to him in return. But even his time with Angie was becoming tainted. He found himself becoming too envious of her innocence, her trust, and even her father. It was like everything had this shadow over it. Everything was becoming so dark. Dark as night. And nighttime was a dangerous time.

His father hated to be awakened from sleep. Craig knew that he had trouble sleeping and when he'd just completed a long day at work, he was especially irritable. He was never sure of just what his father would hear at night, but he knew that the bumps and bangs his father would hear were going to be blamed on him. Sometimes he was guilty. _There was the time he dropped something in the bathroom. It was like his hearing had amplified. He swore he could hear him getting out of bed and the shuffle down the hall. He'd just stood there, a hand over his mouth. His eyes bugged out as he stared at the doorknob. But nothing happened. He could just feel him outside the door. He didn't know how long he waited. _

In a way, it was better when the beatings would happen at night. Then he could dismiss it all as a nightmare. If only he didn't have the bruises and the scars that would tell the story.

* * *

"I need to go to school now," Craig mumbled. He could somewhat deal with the punishments his father handed out at night but this was another story. He couldn't be that sore around all the kids at school. He didn't want them to see his eyes red and swollen from crying. 

"Hey. Wait a minute," Albert said in a low, firm tone.

Craig froze. He felt his father grab onto the back of his shirt. He gave a quick tug and Craig found himself pressed against him. Albert spun Craig around quickly and Craig found himself pressed up against the wall, his fathers hand wrapped around his arms. Craig winced at the tight grip.

"Please. Please. I'm going to be late," Craig felt panicked at the thought of having to deal with school officials this morning. He simply couldn't do it. He couldn't take anymore pressure.

"We just need to have a little chat," Albert said. "I remind you the night before and for some reason, it just doesn't stick."

Craig nodded rapidly, knowing what he was about to say.

"You are not allowed to see Angela and Joey. Is that clear?"

Craig wasn't sure if he had stopped nodding. "Yes. I know."

Albert gave Craig another quick shake, "I hate to do this to you Craig, but it's the only way we are going to make any headway with you. I don't know how else to get you to remember."

"I know," Craig managed to whisper and let out a small cry.

"Okay. Get off to school, then."

Craig didn't even bother asking for his father to write him a late note. He silently called himself names as he headed off to school. It hurt to walk, but he was too relieved to get away from that man. He was sure that it took him twice as long to walk to school today.

"Mr. Manning, you are late again," Mr. Armstrong greeted Craig once he saw him in the hallway. So much for making it to class unnoticed. He figured he could gloss over his tardiness with his music teacher, but here was another obstacle.

"Yes. I'm sorry, sir. I'm going to class right now."

"Go check in at the front office."

"I don't have a note."

"All the reason to go to the front office. I'm sure that Mr. Raditch would like to speak with you about your tardiness."

Craig tried to ignore the tears burning in his eyes. He wanted to scream. This was too much.

"I'm late," Craig said to the school secretary. He noticed how weak and tired he sounded. He had to pull himself together.

"Can I see your note?" She asked politely.

"Um, I don't have one. I didn't ask my dad for one."

The secretary had to sigh. She pulled out a file and glanced over some papers. "You've been tardy twice this week and it's only Wednesday. Not to mention all the other times. I think Mr. Raditch is going to want to have a talk with you."

He could only nod as she picked up the phone and spoke to the principal. She hung up the phone and then gestured to a chair. "Have a seat. He will be with you in a few minutes."

Craig glanced at the chair like it was his enemy. He then looked back over at the secretary to see if she noticed. She hadn't. He almost sighed with relief as he watched her stand up and head out into the hallway. Then he began the task of making an attempt to sit down. He frantically tried several positions and found that the best was to tuck his leg under him so his weight rested on his thigh. He felt a brief moment of solace since he had found a solution to that problem. He knew Raditch would make him sit down for their little visit. He couldn't hardly refuse and back up against the wall.

He pulled out a notebook and began to frantically write. He needed to do something to keep himself calm. He would rewrite the same phrases over and over again. "Please be quiet." "Please just stop." "Shhh." It was all an effort to stop the noise in his head. He began to scribble more aggressively as secrets began to trickle out "Fuck you for doing this to me." "It's your fault." "I hate you." "Go to Hell." "I hate you." "It hurts." He turned the page and scrawled, "I'm being abused." Could he give it to someone? Hey, maybe he could leave an anonymous note somewhere. He turned the page again. "I think Craig Manning is being abused." He could slip it into the guidance counselor's mailbox. Or Mr.Simpson's. He was beginning to like that idea. Mr. Simpson was Joey's friend. He could talk to Joey. Joey could fix it. Joey helped him with his mother's death, he could help him now. Joey seemed like a safe guy. He turned the page again and attempted to print in a handwriting style that was not his own, "I think Craig Manning is being abused by his father. Can you help?"

"Craig?"

He glanced up at Raditch and quickly closed his notebook. He stood up slowly and went into the office. He watched Raditch sit down and then did the same, slowly easing himself down. He used the arm rests for support and hoped it wasn't too obvious. He hoped it came across as nervousness, a hesitancy to have this conversation.

"You aren't starting the school year out too well," Raditch observed as he looked over Craig's file.

"I'm sorry," was all he could think of to say.

"You've had 2 absences, about a dozen tardies and we are only three weeks into school."

He could only shake his head.

"Your grades are average, which surprises me because you did exceptionally well at your last school. Has it been a rough transition from boarding school to a public school?"

He shook his head again. Actually that was the case. At boarding school he was safe and he could do his school work. Here he was with his father, who sucked up all of his time. If he wasn't smacking him around, he was recovering from it, and if he wasn't doing that he was trying to get on his father's good side. He couldn't concentrate on school. "Maybe," Craig finally said. "It is really different being at home...I mean, in a public school."

"So what's up?"

"I haven't been sleeping well," was all he could think of to say. He lowered his eyes from Raditch's stare.

"Do we need to call your dad in for a visit? Is he aware of what's going on?"

"Please don't do that," Craig said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Then you need to start getting here on time. Did you oversleep this morning?"

"No," Craig answered truthfully.

"Why were you tardy today, Craig?"

"I had to take care of my dad. He's been sick."

"Why didn't he write you a note?"

"I didn't want to bother him with it," Craig answered truthfully.

Raditch sighed and gave Craig a firm stare. "Okay. Anymore unexcused tardies or absences and we are calling a meeting with your father, do you understand?"

"Yes. Thank you," Craig said and sighed with relief.

* * *

Craig needed to get out of here. He needed this to stop. He needed to escape. And he would escape with Angela, he'd decided later that day. Emma even provided him with the opportunity. So he'd taken Angela to the park like he said he was going to, and then lured her over to the ice cream stand. As she licked at the vanilla ice cream cone, he proposed his plan. Those nasty bruises she'd seen? Well, they were from a dinosaur and they had to get away from the razor-toothed beasts. British Columbia didn't have them; they should escape while they still can. He was so close when Joey had to show up and Angie revealed their plans.

He was sitting at the kitchen table now, anxiously rolling around golf balls. Back and forth, back and forth. Craig was rocking slightly as he rolled the balls. Back and forth, back and forth. Craig wasn't even concentrating on what he was doing. He just found comfort in the tedious repetition. He had no idea how his father was going to react once he found out he had spent the afternoon with Angela, how Angela had revealed his great escape to B.C. plan to Joey. From Joey's angered response, he knew Joey would be calling.

"Hey Craigger," his father greeted him as he came in, "Why are you home so early? Anything wrong kiddo?"

"Nah. I just had a long day, that's all," Craig said as he turned to look at his dad.

Albert took note of Craig's weary expression and said, "Well don't worry about it. We'll take it easy tonight. I've got some take-out here, a few videos."

Craig nodded and forced a smile.

"So, did you buy a new camera today?" Albert asked.

"Ah, no," Craig said, and then his plans of running away entered his head again. There was no reason he still couldn't leave. He quickly added, "The one I really want is about a hundred more."

"Well, we'll go check it out tomorrow. Your father is an outstanding haggler," Albert replied.

As Albert turned away, Craig smirked, pleased with his lie about the camera and how his dad had bought it. The phone rang and Craig's face fell. His father quickly answered the phone.

"Joey!" Albert exclaimed out of surprised, "What do you want?"

Craig rose to his feet fairly quickly. He watched his father's expression, how his features tightened as he listened to Joey speak. Several times Albert removed the phone from his ear, anxious to reprimand Craig for disobeying him yet again. But he kept listening and Craig took the chance to run up to his room. He was in a panic as he heard his father coming up the stairs behind him. Craig attempted to close his bedroom and was fumbling for the locks when his dad burst in. The door knocked him to the floor and he scrambled to his feet. Craig backed away from his father, holding his hands out in front him as if to say "no" or "please don't."

Albert Manning shook his head at his son, "I can't believe you. Why can't you just let it go? I am your family. There is a reason I don't want you around Joey and Angela. I know what's best for you. Why can't you accept that?"

Craig shook his head and mumbled, "I don't know."

"Joey is not your father!"

Craig stared past his father, stared straight at the doorway. He vividly imagined his escape. Charge at him and knock him over. Then race down the hall, down the stairs, and out the front door. Just do it. But he couldn't move. His father was in the way. How was he going to get out of this one?

"I don't know why I don't think," Craig offered.

Albert reached for Craig and shook him hard, "I'll have to get you to remember. If you think that I enjoy this…" he snapped, "This is the only way we're ever going to get you to remember."

"I'll try to..." Craig couldn't finish as his father pushed him down on the floor. Craig struggled to get to his feet but his father pushed him down again. His father was over him now, shaking him hard. Craig's head bounced back with each shake and once it struck the floor hard. Tears immediately sprung to his eyes from the throbbing pain.

His father let go of him and Craig fell back on the floor. Craig struggled to breath, to think. He watched as his father took off his belt and his heart sank. Craig did not fight to get away this time. He took the belt as well as he could, trying not to cry. He hated it when his father saw him cry. Craig just curled up on the floor and tried to cover his face so his father wouldn't' see the tears streaming down his face. But soon he could hear himself crying. Then he heard nothing.

Craig wasn't sure if he had blinked or if he was just waking up. All he knew was that his bedroom was growing dark now. He was still on the floor, lying on his side, with his gaze fixed on the wall. Had he been staring this whole time? It was possible. Or did he simply pass out? It really didn't matter; all that mattered was that he wasn't all there. Reality was crashing down now. He wished that he could just sleep forever and just forget who he was.

Craig slowly eased himself up and clutched his head briefly. The pain seemed to stab at him all over. He glanced at the clock- a little after 7 pm. He tried to piece together the day's events. He spent after school with Angela, and the altercation with Joey, home in the late afternoon, and then Dad...

Craig's mind came to a halt. He didn't want to think about what happened.

It was getting harder and harder to deny what was happening though. Time to survey the damage, Craig decided and slowly got to his feet. He went over to his bedroom door and quietly fastened several locks. Walking was horribly painful and Craig choked back a sob. He was almost afraid to turn on the lights, but after some hesitation decided on the small desk lamp. Craig approached the mirror and began to look himself over. He took off his shirt and examined the bruises from the day before, the welts from the belt beating before that, and the marks that were beginning to show from today's beating. He didn't dare look over the rest of himself. He just didn't want to know. He was a mess and everything was a mess.

I don't know how to fix this, Craig thought wildly. He kept telling himself that and soon the panic diminished to sadness. He had to get away from here. But where would he go? His brain quietly whispered Joey and he went for his emergency shoe box, the one that held the money, pills, and his "Perfect Family" scrapbook. He first went for the scrapbook but instead of comfort, it felt like the final blow. It was everything he never could have.

Craig's mind again returned to suicide. He had been thinking about it for awhile. Running away was his first plan, if that failed, then he'd off himself. He didn't see any other way out. His father hadn't missed the pills he'd been sneaking from the medicine cabinet. Craig doubted that he'd miss him once he was gone. Who would miss him if he was gone? He'd hinted at that in Kwan's class in his introduction speech. _"Right…me in an infinite universe, an insignificant plant. What are we? One of six billion inhabitants, big deal. Honestly, if I were to say...(he'd stopped himself from uttering "kill myself" and instead substituted)...if I were to disappear, who'd care? What would it matter? A subatomic blimp in the temporal fabric of creation. So there you have it. Craig Manning." _Maybe Craig was silently hoping that his teacher, or someone, anyone, would know those words were an alarm and do what he couldn't – get help. Craig opened the bottle, took several tablets, then paused, and thought about what he was about to do. He didn't want to die here at his dad's house. Maybe he didn't even want to die at all.

Craig's eyes rested on his 'perfect family' scrapbook again. He removed a picture of Joey and Angela. Maybe Joey would understand. Maybe he could try one more time to fix things. He could try one more time. Just one more time and if it didn't work, he'd give up. Craig tore a few photos out of the book and stuffed them in his pocket. He hesitated and then put the pill bottle in his pocket as well as the cash he had from his father. Craig quietly opened the window and peered out. His dad's car was in the driveway. Craig felt a sense of despair, but he figured he'd have to make an attempt to get out of here. Who knows what else would happen tonight. Craig crawled out the window and down to the ground. He wasn't coming back here, no matter what.

Craig moved as quickly as he could, farther and farther away from his dad's house. He was full of so many emotions and that drove him to keep moving and ignore the pain, keep running towards Joey. He arrived there, out of breath and the pain returning to him. He stood in front of the house for awhile, noticing that Joey's car and another car was in the driveway and all the lights on in the house. Craig felt a moment of panic and didn't want to do this anymore. He reached into his pocket and took out the bottle of pills. He dumped them into his hand and began taking them. Another moment of panic seized him. He stopped and put the rest back and tucked them back into his pocket.

Craig swallowed hard and approached the front door. He paused and listened to the sounds of laughter and talking in the house. His heart ached and he blinked away tears. What was he going to say, he wondered as he pressed the door bell.

Craig was surprised when his teacher Mr. Simpson answered the door.

"Hey Craig," Simpson said warmly but cautiously and glanced around for Joey.

Craig was silent for a moment, wondering what to do next.

"What's up Craig?" Simpson tried again.

Craig ran a hand through his hair. He half laughed, half choked back a sob. Tears of frustration and despair were welling up in his eyes again. "I don't know..." he managed to choke out.

Craig looked at Simpson's face for the first time, as he felt so awkward. He saw concern in Mr. Simpson's eyes. He knows something's not right with me, Craig thought. Craig began to scratch nervously at one of his wrists, flinching as he tore into a fresh cut he had made on himself this morning. It was at this moment that Simpson reached out for him, taking his shoulder.

"Come on in," Simpson said.

"I'm not supposed to be here though. My dad doesn't know. Just don't tell him okay? And Joey's angry at me," Craig blurted out.

"We'll talk about that okay?" Simpson said, leading Craig inside, "If something's going on, we can talk about it, and I'm sure Joey will understand." Simpson unfortunately had seen this type of behavior in kids all too often. He wasn't sure what to suspect, but knew that Craig was in a poor state of mind. He had been watching him all week at school and noticed how unfocused and withdrawn he was.

"Where's Joey?" Craig asked nervously.

"He's in the kitchen. We were just getting together, like the old days. We used to go to school together, did you know that? We went to Degrassi too. Kind of funny that I'm teaching there now huh?"

Craig nodded and kept his eyes on the floor. He had no idea what Mr. Simpson had just said.

"Craig?"

Craig jerked his head up at the sound of Joey's voice. "I know this is a mistake and probably just annoying to you and I just wanted to say I'm sorry and I don't know what I was thinking with Angela earlier. I wasn't going to do anything, really," Craig paused and then added "I don't know what I'm doing right now. You know my dad doesn't want me here. Just don't tell him okay? He'd be really angry and I just can't do this anymore."

Craig began to move towards the front door but Simpson reached out for his arm. As he touched Craig's arm, Craig winced.

Joey and Simpson exchanged a worried look.

"It's ok, Craig," Joey said and slowly approached Craig.

"I don't think it's going to be," Craig muttered but didn't make an attempt for the door again.

He looked straight into Joey's eyes and said, "I'm not going back there. Please…just don't make me go back there."

Joey put a hand on Craig's back to comfort him. Craig tried not to cringe or show any sign that he was uncomfortable. Joey sensed this and exchanged another concerned look with Simpson, thinking about the discussion they had earlier about Craig's behavior. Joey had brought up Craig to rant about him, how uncontrollable the teen seemed, and slowly he and his friend had started to put the pieces together. That kid needed help. Up until now, he wasn't sure what kind of help he needed.

Joey began to rub Craig's back, "It's okay Craig," he said softly, "It's okay that you are here."

Craig exhaled in relief and his composure softened, Joey wasn't touching a sore spot on his back. Joey kept rubbing his back reassuringly.

"Let's just go sit down," Joey said and pressed his hand gently on the middle of Craig's back, trying to urge him towards the couch.

Once his hand touched a sore spot, Craig inhaled sharply and jerked away violently. He couldn't help but glare at Joey with angry, tear filled eyes.

Joey quickly pulled his hand away from him. He wasn't sure what to do or exactly what was wrong with Craig. He had a hunch but that was hard to accept, for some reason. Maybe it was guilt. He really had no idea or how to handle this situation at all.

Simpson tried again, "Let's just go sit down. And I'll get you a coke or something, okay? And we'll just sit down and take it easy and talk a little bit okay?"

Craig rubbed his tear filled eyes. He hated the way he was looking in front of his stepfather and his teacher. He began to move towards the couch and the pain felt like it was a boulder crashing down on him. It all came at once, and Craig mostly felt it in his rear. Craig tried to keep it together and walked uncomfortably over to the couch.

Joey was beginning to feel panicked. He stared at Simpson with wild eyes, silently asking what they were supposed to do next. They watched as Craig paused by the couch.

Simpson moved quickly to Craig's side, wanting him to feel as comfortable as possible. "It's okay," He said softly, and slipped an arm around Craig, "Let me help you sit down, okay?"

Craig glanced up at him and mumbled, "Okay."

"Just go slow, okay?" Simpson spoke softly, putting his hands under Craig's elbows to support some of his weight as he sat down, so the pain wouldn't be overwhelming all at once. Craig accepted this offer and gripped Simpson's arms.

Craig's breathing became sharp and rapid. Joey and Simpson noticed how his eyes glistened with tears.

"I know it hurts, Craig" Simpson soothed, as he eased Craig down onto the couch. Craig still held onto Simpson's arms as he tried to breathe normally. Simpson kneeled beside Craig and watched him with concern.

"Take it easy," he soothed.

Craig let go of Simpson's one arm so he could wipe the tears that were forming at the corners of his eyes. He didn't know why, but he just didn't want to let go of him. Simpson continued to let Craig grip his forearm. He felt like he should touch Craig, comfort him in some way, but he didn't want to touch a spot that was sore. He kneeled next to Craig for a few minutes, not saying a word. Craig wouldn't look him in the face. Finally Craig released him and put his shaky hand in his lap.

Joey stood stiffly, a few feet from Craig, in a sort of shock. He didn't know this was happening to Craig. He began to feel guilty for the day's earlier events. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He wanted to apologize and give Craig some sort of explanation

"Hey Craig," Simpson spoke softly.

Craig didn't look at him.

"Craig?" Simpson tried again.

"Yes?" Craig managed to respond. He was beginning to feel dizzy and wasn't sure why. But then again he wasn't sure about much lately.

"Hey, I just want you to sit here for a minute, okay? Joey and I are going to go in the kitchen. He'll grab you a coke and I'm going to call Christine...Emma's Mom...and tell her what's up, okay?"

Craig mumbled something unintelligible.

"Craig?" Simpson tried again.

"Christine, tell her what...hey Angela, is she here? What are you going to tell them?" Craig mumbled.

"Angela's at her grandma's for the weekend. It's just me and Joey here. I'm just going to call Christine and tell her I'm not coming over later tonight, okay?"

"Okay."

"Stay right there, okay?"

"Okay."

He glanced up and saw Simpson leading Joey out to the kitchen. Joey hasn't said much to me, Craig thought sadly. Tears burned his eyes again. He wondered what they were talking about in the kitchen; he knew it was about him. Did they want to send him back to his dads? To the hospital? Craig began to feel weak. He looked down at his shaking hands. He thought about his injuries and what was happening now. And the pills. Craig felt terrified. He got up slowly and walked out in the kitchen.

"I should have known something was wrong with him, Snake. I don't why I didn't see it. He tried to run off with Angela this afternoon and when I spoke to his dad about it, he made it sound like Craig was sick, like he's out of control. And maybe Craig is sick. I don't know. But something is wrong with him. The way he was walking and how it hurt him to sit..." Joey trailed off as he noticed Craig standing in the doorway.

"Craig…" Joey started, "I'm not saying any of this to be mean. I'm concerned."

"I don't care. I just don't feel well right now."

"Okay, Craig, let's go back out to the living room and sit down. You look really tired," Simpson said and lead Craig out into the living room.

Craig stopped and tried to make sense of things. He suddenly felt like he wasn't really there anymore. It was hard to focus on one thing. He stared blankly at Joey, but could hardly make sense of what he was saying. It was even harder to respond. His heart started to race.

"Craig, what's wrong?" Joey asked as he noticed the teenager's gaze wander around the room, "Hey, are you okay?"

Craig didn't respond to Joey. He leaned up against the wall and closed his eyes.

Simpson put an arm under Craig, afraid he was going to collapse. "Craig, what's wrong?"

The teenager opened his eyes and looked at the concern on the faces of his stepfather and teacher. He put a hand on his chest and felt his heart thump wildly. His first thought was that he was having a heart attack. Chills were shooting through his body. He remembered the pills.

"My heart is beating really fast," Craig mumbled, not wanting to tell the adults what he had done.

Joey put a hand on Craig's chest and felt his stepson's heart pound like it was going to explode out of his chest. He looked at Craig's glassy, dilated eyes.

"I don't feel good," Craig mumbled, his muscles feeling weak. He just wanted to go to sleep. Panic set in again, "I think I made a mistake."

The adults grabbed onto Craig as he began to fall to the floor. They eased him onto his back.

"He must've taken something," Simpson said and put his hand on Craig's chest, "His heart is beating like crazy."

"What's going on?" Craig whispered as he began to wake up.

"You fainted," Joey answered, "Why'd that happen?"

"I didn't mean for this happen," he mumbled.

"Craig, did you take something? Did you take some kind of drug?" Simpson asked.

"This can't be happening," Craig muttered and began to sit up, "I don't want this anymore."

Joey put his hands on Craig's back to support him. Simpson put a hand on the back of his neck to hold up his head. They watched as he gazed around the room.

"I'm really dizzy," he mumbled and promptly turned his head to the side and began to vomit. He hadn't eaten much all day and threw up mostly water. Between dry heaves, he caught sight of one of the tablets he had swallowed.

Craig felt himself becoming more aware of what was going on. He felt Joey's hands under his armpits and Simpson's had one hand on his back and the other on his neck. He wished he had the strength to wipe the saliva and vomit off his chin.

Simpson took a tissue and wiped Craig's chin. Craig decided he was too dizzy and out of it to care what he looked like in front of his stepfather and teacher.

"I threw up on your floor," he mumbled to Joey.

"You mostly just had the dry heaves," Joey said to Craig. He noticed something white lying on the stain.

"Hold onto him," he asked Simpson.

Joey picked up the white tablet off the floor, "That's a pill, isn't it?" He looked at Craig quizzically. Craig was breathing slow and shallow now. His eyelids were heavy.

"That's what it looks like," Simpson answered.

Craig barely heard Simpson ask, "You've been taking pills?"

He weakly turned his head to the side to look at his teacher. He tried to work his mind around this and figure out what to say. He felt his head drop down.

"Damn it, Craig," Joey said and lifted up his head and looked at his face, "Don't you dare do this."

"I'm going to lay him down and call an ambulance," Simpson said to Joey.

"Just wait, he's waking up," Joey urged and still held Craig's head in his hands.

Simpson sighed, "He's not going to stay awake much longer. We need to get him to the hospital."

"No," Craig muttered, "That's why I did this."

"What?" Joey said and pushed Craig's hair off his sweaty forehead, "What does that mean?"

Craig looked into Joey's eyes but couldn't find the courage to tell him.

"What did you take?" Joey asked frantically.

"In my pocket. Dad's pills, pain pills and Valium," Craig managed to say. His head pounded as his heart raced.

"How many did you take?"

Craig weakly shook his head, "I don't know."

Simpson eased Craig down onto his back. "I'm going to put him in the recovery position," Simpson said as he turned Craig over on his left side and pulled his right leg up so he couldn't roll over on his stomach. "Keep him there," Simpson said as he got up and promptly went for the phone.

Joey felt of Craig's pockets. He felt a pill bottle his stepson's jeans pocket and pulled it out. He noticed that Craig's shirt had risen slightly. Joey stopped breathing for a moment as he noticed the purple tint of a bruise on Craig's abdomen. He pulled his stepson's shirt up slightly. He gasped as he looked at the huge bruise on his stepson's right side.

"The ambulance is coming. They said not to move him. And to keep him warm," Simpson said as he returned with a blanket.

Simpson paused as he noticed the bruise on Craig's side, "Oh no," he said as he knelt beside the teenager.

"Yeah," Joey said sadly, "Remember what he was talking about earlier? Not wanting to go back to his father's."

Joey touched Craig's forehead and looked into his dazed half opened eyes, "I think we know why this happened, Craig."

Simpson draped the blanket over Craig, "Let's keep you warm."

Craig tried to roll onto his back. Joey held him, "Craig, just keep still."

Craig let out a low sob as he continued to struggle, "I hate being held down."

"Craig, just listen to me. I know you are very uncomfortable but try to relax and stay still."

Craig began to jerk with dry heaves again. "I want this to stop," Craig muttered, "I don't feel good. My throat feels like it's swollen."

"I know, kiddo," Joey said, "It'll stop soon. The ambulance will be here soon and we'll get you some help."

He watched as Craig's eyes closed. The men kneeled beside Craig and listened as he struggled to breathe. His chest barely moved with each breath.

"You could have just told me what was happening," Joey said to his very still stepson. If it wasn't for his ragged gasps for air, Joey wouldn't have been sure Craig was even breathing. "What the hell did you do?"

The two men leaned over Craig, watching him breathe. Joey put his hand on Craig's chest.

"His heart is going wild. It'll speed up, then slow down some, and then start racing again," he said.

"I'm worried about his breathing," Simpson declared. "If he doesn't start breathing better..."

"Come on, Craig," Joey interrupted and continued to plead to his unconscious stepson, "Just hang in there."

Joey was so focused on Craig that he didn't notice the paramedics in the room now. Simpson eased Joey onto his feet and away from Craig.

"Let them take care of him now," he said.

Joey watched as the medics checked Craig's vitals and quickly lifted him onto a stretcher. An oxygen mask was placed over Craig's nose and mouth. Joey was relieved to see that it fogged each time Craig exhaled. He's still breathing then. Just keep breathing.

"Do you know what he took? Do you have the bottles?" One medic asked.

Joey handed them the bottle he took out of Craig's pocket.

As they headed out the door, Joey glanced back at Simpson.

"Go with him," Simpson said, "I'll follow."


	3. Quick, Quick, Slow

**3. Quick, Quick, Slow**

The paramedics quickly wheeled Craig into the emergency room with Joey rushing alongside.

"Hey Maya," the paramedic called out. The nurse approached quickly.

"What have we got?" Maya asked, "What's his name?"

"Craig," Joey answered. "Craig Manning."

"Craig? Craig? Open your eyes for me," Maya commanded as she leaned over Craig.

"Overdose. Not responding now," A paramedic replied. "It's suspected that he took these." He handed a bottle to the nurse.

"It's unmarked, what was in it?" Maya asked and looked at Joey and the paramedic.

"Craig told me that it was Valium and some kind of painkillers," Joey answered.

"That explains the level of consciousness. Karen, Adrianne…Get him in trauma 1," Maya instructed two other nurses.

The paramedic held Joey back as they wheeled Craig away.

"Okay, we'll figure out what it was he took exactly. We can run tests," Maya said. "Do you know when he took them? How long as it been?"

"He came over to my house and he seemed upset and disorientated. Then he collapsed and I finally got him to tell me what he took. I don't know when he took them," Joey replied, barely able to make sense of this.

"How long was he at your house?"

"Not long at all. Maybe 15 minutes. 30 maybe?"

"Are you his father?" Maya asked.

"No, I'm his stepfather."

"Okay, I need you to just stand back here and wait. Someone is going to need you to fill out some forms, get the correct spelling of his name," Maya said and rushed back to Craig.

Joey stood back and watched in shock as Maya and the two nurses gathered around Craig, who was motionless on the stretcher. They had not pulled the curtain yet and Joey watched in terror.

"Okay, Craig, stick with us," Maya urged. "Come on, open your eyes."

Maya placed an oxygen bag over Craig's nose and mouth and began to pump more air into his lungs. Nurse Karen began to hook Craig up to a cardio-respiratory monitor.

Maya shook her head as the other two were checking his vital signs. "He's going to have to be tubed. Page Dr. Elliot stat and get respiratory down here. As soon as you get a line in him, lets give him some Narcan and see if that wakes him up a little bit."

"Come on Craig," Maya encouraged as she forced Craig to breathe deep.

Nurse Adrian began to insert an I.V. needle into Craig's left hand as the second finished hooking him up the monitor.

"Point eight of Narcan in," Adrian declared.

"Come on, kiddo, you got to breathe better than this or you get the nose hose and the breathing tube. Wake up," Maya said.

"Pressure is only 80," a nurse said as she removed the blood pressure cuff from Craig's right arm.

Dr. Elliot approached Craig and scanned him over, "Okay...what do we got?"

"An overdose of Valium and some type of painkiller. We have a couple left over in an unmarked bottle," Maya responded.

"GCS of 3. No response to point eight of Narcan," Karen added.

"Regular Sinus. Brady of 56. No Blocks," Maya stated as she listened to his chest with a stethoscope. She glanced over at the monitor, "QRS is normal."

"Come on, you've got to breathe better than that. Breathing way too slow, kiddo. Let's get an NG down him," the doctor said as he tilted Craig's head back and began to push a tube into his nose and down to his stomach.

Joey was horrified as he watched Craig lay motionless as a long tube was pushed into his nose.

"BP is 80 over 50. Unassisted resps are four. Stats are 100 with bagging," Karen said.

"NG is down. Give me some suction here. Start 250 of charcoal," Dr. Elliot instructed and then asked "How long has he been down for?"

"Not long. Stepfather said he showed up at his house disorientated, then collapsed maybe a half hour later. Ambulance was called right away," Maya answered.

"Do a Chem 7 tox screen and a CBC," the doctor instructed as he tilted Craig's head back. Maya held Craig's head as the doctor pushed another tube down into Craig's throat. He attached it to an oxygen bag and began to pump it.

He's still not breathing on his own, Joey thought and was about to panic. He wasn't sure what he would do in his panic but he could only think one thing; _Do something._

"Where's respiratory with the vent?" Dr. Elliot inquired.

"They've been paged," Karen answered.

At that moment, a curtain was pulled and Joey could no longer see what was happening to his stepson. He stood there in shock. It was one of those moments where you feel as though you should fall to the floor. You practically can feel yourself falling. But here he was, standing in an emergency room while his stepson was being hooked up to all kinds of machines.

Adrianne, a nurse, approached Joey. She touched his shoulder and said "It's better if you wait outside in the waiting room. It makes it easier on everyone. We need some information from you."

"I'm...not his father. I'm his stepfather, but he doesn't live with me. He just came to my house tonight upset and...it just looked like he was upset and then I found some bruises on his side. Someone is hurting him," Joey barely could speak.

Adrianne put a hand on Joey's shoulder. "It's okay. Every bit of information helps. Just fill this out." She requested and handed Joey a small stack of papers secured to a clipboard.

Joey followed the nurse out to the waiting room. He sank into a chair next to Simpson and began to ramble.

"They wouldn't let me stay. They didn't tell me anything. They were giving him oxygen and kept talking about his breathing. And I just saw...they put a tube down his nose and then down his throat. And his breathing..." Joey trailed off.

"It's okay," Simpson said and put a hand on Joey's shoulder, "I'm sure we got him here in time." Or at least he hoped that was the case but someone had to be positive. He then made a quick attempt to block any thoughts of discovering suicide victim Claude in high school.

Joey sighed as he flipped through the stack of forms. All the words seemed to blur together.

"Need to get some air?" Simpson offered.

"I have to fill these forms out. I should call Albert Manning. No, maybe I should wait on that," Joey clutched the pen in his hand. "But I have no idea if Craig has had the mumps or what he's allergic too. I don't think he has asthma."

It was that moment that he realized he didn't know Craig Manning. There was always a wall of isolation around him, even when he was a little kid. He blamed that on Albert Manning. Weekend visits to see his mother was all that Joey would see of him and that only offered him a glimpse before Manning arrived in his convertible to whisk his son off to his "home." Craig was always sort of known to him as Julia's son. Those weekends together were spent making sure that Craig could spend as much time with his mother as possible and was entertained. He recalled how intense Albert's stare was when Craig would cheerfully explain to Dad about the trip to the amusement park or the funny dog the neighbor had. Oh yeah, Joey knew from the start that Albert was possessive. But he was human and did allow Joey to keep in contact with Craig after Julia's death; it was brief but at least he was able to provide some support and gotten to know Craig better. Looking back, something told him that Craig wasn't allowed to grieve at home because Mom was someone that Dad despised and mentioning her would most likely lead to a painful confrontation in one form or another. It was somewhere during all these flashbacks that Joey realized that he'd already decided to take Craig in, at least until "home" was more stable. That kid didn't have anyone else…or anyone really. If someone didn't step in now, the young teen would surely end up dead or in serious trouble.

Tonight's events haunted him. There was something about Craig that was unrecognizable. He was a shell of himself. Even if he didn't succeed in checking himself out of this world, he'd made a damn good effort of destroying his soul. Craig seemed dead inside, especially in those semi-conscious moments before the ambulance arrived. Craig's eyes would alternate between being full of pain and absolute nothingness. Joey wondered what happened to make that child that way. The bruises on his stomach were the first clue. Joey couldn't allow himself to imagine the rest or how Craig had sustained those injuries.

"Hey," Simpson interrupted. "Let's go for a walk."

Joey waved a form in the air, "Need to do this. Vaccinations…at what age do kids get their shot for measles anyway?" Joey paused. "I don't know this kid. So much for family. Julia…" Joey couldn't finish. He had to be here for Julia's Craig.

"They just give you those forms to keep you busy," Simpson reassured. "You already helped tremendously by finding out what he took."

"What if Craig has a head injury? Someone was beating on him. Why did he have to go make things more complicated by taking those pills?" Joey was feeling the anger now, the kind you felt when the helplessness and confusion caved in. The kind of anger only a suicide attempt can bring on.

"It was a cry for help. You know that."

* * *

After what seemed like hours, someone finally approached Joey. "Are you Joey Jeremiah? Came in with Craig Manning?" 

Joey nodded and got to his feet, "I'm his stepfather. Is Craig okay?"

"Hi, I'm Robert Schaffer and I'm a social worker," He said, extending his hand.

Joey shook his hand and repeated, "Craig- is he okay?"

"He's doing better. His stomach was pumped to remove the medication he had taken. The doctor is concerned about his breathing and put Craig on a ventilator."

"But he's going to be fine right?"

"I'm not going to lie to you, his breathing was slow and his heart rate erratic. But I was just up with Craig and the doctor and he seems to be stable."

Joey sighed with relief.

"Mind if we head up to my office to talk?" Robert asked and then led Joey upstairs to a small office.

"Are you Craig's guardian? Does he live with you?" Robert first asked.

"No, he lives with his father," Joey said as he sat down.

"We're going to need Craig's father's name, address, and phone number from you. We need to alert him of his son's condition. Or have you called him already?"

Joey shook his head, "I don't think his father should be seeing him."

"What makes you say that?"

"I'm not sure of anything," Joey started slowly. "I don't want to accuse him or anything. But just from the things that Craig said tonight and how he was acting."

"What was Craig like?" the social worker asked.

"He seemed very disorientated and upset," Joey said slowly, "And he seemed to be in pain. My friend, who is also Craig's teacher at Degrassi High, was there also…and when ever we would touch his arm or his upper back to comfort him, he would cringe or flinch. And he walked awkwardly and had trouble sitting down on the couch. Just in general, he was acting like he was in pain. I saw that he had a bruise on his side also."

"Did Craig say anything that makes you think that his father was hurting him?"

Joey shook his head, "Not directly. He repeated that he wasn't supposed to be at my house and if his father knew he'd be angry. He asked me not to tell his dad that he was at my place."

"How did you respond?"

"I think I told him it would be okay," Joey said and shrugged. "I was just trying to keep him calm and keep him there so he wouldn't run off."

The social worker nodded.

"I remember Craig saying that he didn't think it would be okay and he wasn't going back home," Joey added.

Robert nodded again, this time more grimly.

"Okay, our first concern when Craig was brought in was the overdose. It sounds to me like it was a suicide attempt. Do you have any reason to think that it was not a suicide attempt?" Robert said as he scanned over Craig's file.

Joey was hesitant at first. He nodded slowly, "That's what it seems like."

"We are concerned about more than the overdose now," The social worker looked up from the chart and paused. "As the doctor was examining Craig, we found multiple bruises and welts on him. As well as some cuts on his left wrist. I'm more concerned about the bruises and welts we found on his body."

Joey was trying to find the words to speak. He was numb from the night's events. This all should feel like it's happening, but it doesn't, Joey thought to himself. He finally spoke up, "I didn't know anyone was hurting him until tonight. His father didn't want Craig to have any contact with me or with his half sister Angela. So contact between us has been very limited."

"Were you given a reason for not having contact with Craig?" Robert inquired.

Joey shook his head slowly, "His mother passed away when Craig was twelve. And he just felt I didn't have any relation to him, I'm assuming…" Joey trailed off.

"Okay, when was..."

Joey interrupted Robert; the guilt was eating at him, "This afternoon, Craig was with my daughter Angela, even after his father had clearly told me and Craig he didn't want Craig around Angela or me. So I find out from Angela's babysitter that she's with Craig. When I find them, Angela tells me that Craig has been talking to her about going to British Columbia and pulls this large wad of money out of Craig's pocket. I panicked, thinking that maybe Albert was keeping Craig away from Angela for a reason. Like Craig was obsessed with her and I. I don't know..." Joey trailed off. "I talked harshly to Craig and told him to stay away from Angela. Later that afternoon I called his father and told him about the incident. And then...well, here we are," Joey finished.

Robert nodded, "So you think he was planning on running away?"

"It seemed that way."

"It's interesting to hear all this because," the social worker reached into a folder and pulled out a small plastic bag, "We found these in Craig's pockets, as well as some money."

He handed the bag to Joey. Joey opened the bag and took out the photos. He scanned over them; his and Julia's wedding photo, a portrait of Julia when she was young and healthy, photos of Angela as a baby, a few of Craig, Julia, and Joey. He was surprised to also find some that looked like they had been taken recently; babysitter Emma and Angela at the park playing, Joey and Angela at the park, and a recent trip Angela and Joey took to the cemetery a several weeks ago.

"Some were from when Julia and I had just gotten married. And I can see why he would be carrying a picture of his mother- she passed away 2 years ago. But some of these were taken a few weeks ago or less," Joey gestured to the photos, "Only I didn't know that Craig was there."

Robert nodded, "Does it disturb you that Craig was there taking those pictures?"

"I'm not sure. It makes me wonder if Albert was right…that Craig was obsessed with us."

"If Craig was being abused, he may have been using you and Angela as a sort of distraction or escape. He might have been fantasizing about what your family is like and thinking about how it's different than his. Did Craig live with you and your wife before she died?"

"No. I got to know him when he would visit sometimes on weekends. After his mother's funeral, we got to know each other pretty well and I think we both helped each other through a hard time. And that was the last I saw of Craig until recently."

"How did Albert react to your relationship with Craig? Have there been any confrontations recently?"

"There has, most recently was several weeks ago. I called Albert to ask how Craig was doing; Craig took his mother's death really hard. Albert visited me at my business and basically told me to stay away from his son and it was none of my business. That was when he made it very clear that he did not want Angela or me around Craig."

"Okay. Thank you very much for sharing that with me."

Joey nodded in response, "Anything I can do to help."

There was a moment of silence.

"So the bruises..." Joey started, "I don't know what I'm asking."

"He has a lot of bruises and welts, some fresh and some fading, as well as a fractured rib. That and the number and location of the bruises strongly suggest that he is being abused. We'll have to talk to Craig about them to know more."

Joey felt the guilt in the pit of his stomach. "I knew he was in trouble. I knew Albert was an angry guy. I just never thought…" Joey heard himself speaking but wasn't even aware the words were coming out of his mouth.

"I know this is hard to hear," Robert said gently, "In a way, it's good that this happened this way, otherwise the abuse might have gone unnoticed."

"We just have to wait until Craig wakes up to get all the facts," He continued after a moment of silence.

"When will that be? When will you talk to him?" Joey asked.

"We'll have to wait until he's awake and coherent. And we have to wait to make sure he is stable physically. It's probably going to be very hard on him to discuss all this. I can't predict how he will react. I wanted to run this by you first, so you can work through it and hopefully be willing to support Craig when I question him. I'll let you know more about that later."

Joey nodded, "Of course I'll be there for him."

Robert got to his feet, "Do you have anymore questions?"

"The cuts on his wrist…did someone do that to him or did he do it to himself?"

"Most likely to himself. It's fairly common to see abused teenagers also injuring themselves. I know it doesn't seem like it makes much sense if they are already being hurt. It's just another way for them to deal with stress," Robert answered, "Anything else?"

Joey shook his head slowly.

"I just want you to know you are not to blame for the overdose. I know that you are thinking that you could have prevented it, but that's not true," the social worker assured. "It's not your fault. The o.d. was likely a reaction to the stress that Craig has been experiencing and he didn't know how else to ask for help or was just feeling too hopeless. The cutting also suggests how desperate he was. Craig just didn't know how else to ask for help."

* * *

"Craig is awake," Dr. Elliot announced. 

Joey quickly got to his feet and followed the doctor and social worker back into the emergency room. Robert and Dr. Elliot stopped him outside of the curtain that separated him from his stepson.

"I just need to clarify how important it is that Craig remains calm, especially at this point in his recovery," Robert said, "We have not questioned him about the abuse yet. We are just trying to create a calm and controlled environment so Craig can feel safe. While it's very important that we talk about the abuse as soon as possible, it's also important that it Craig is well enough to talk about it. Just keep the conversation light."

"I also want to give you a heads-up as to what Craig is going to look like, "Dr. Elliot said, "He just finished having his stomach pumped and a tube is still in his nose. We're weaning him off the ventilator, so he still has a tube down his throat and a nurse is using an oxygen bag on him. He's also has an I.V. and he's hooked up to a cardio-respiratory monitor, to monitor his breathing and heart. He's going to seem very groggy and might doze off while you are seeing him. Don't worry, that's normal."

Dr. Elliot looked down at his pager, "I've got to take off. I'll be checking in on Craig later. We should have him up in a hospital room soon. I'll be seeing you and Craig often over the next few days." The doctor paused to touch Joey's shoulder, "Craig's going to be fine," he assured.

Robert pulled the curtain back. Joey slowly approached Craig's hospital bed. Maya was beside Craig, holding the oxygen bag. Joey watched as she squeezed the bag and Craig's chest would rise and then fall. He was so still.

Maya gave him a reassuring smile "He's doing much better."

She looked down at Craig and said "We'll have you breathing on your own in no time, right kiddo?"

Joey watched as another nurse entered the room and put an ID bracelet on Craig's right wrist. She also put a red bracelet on his wrist. "We don't have a special ward for children who have been abused, so we put a colored bracelet on their wrist. Just so the staff knows to be extra careful with them."

Joey nodded and the nurse left the room. Maya took note of Joey's bewildered expression, "Abused kids usually have a rough time in the hospital. It's hard for them to distinguish safe touching from the way they were handled with they were abused. The bracelet just brings this to the staff's attention so they spend more time explaining things to them and it's not a surprise when they are more upset or fearful than other children would be."

Joey nodded again and sat down on the other side of the bed. He leaned in close to Craig.

"Hey there," he said softly and watched as Craig's eyelids fluttered.

Joey watched as Craig struggled to look at him. He barely moved his head. His eyelids were heavy and barely open. Craig recognized Joey, but couldn't get beyond that. He felt like everything was a dream and couldn't make much sense of anything.

Joey gently touched Craig's head, "How you doing?"

He watched as Craig seemed to be trying to move his mouth. He almost panicked but Maya was calm.

"Craig? Craig, you have a tube down your throat, you can't talk," she said.

Joey watched as Craig's gaze shifted over to Maya.

"I know it feels strange to have all these tubes in you. It might even seem a little scary. But it's all to help you. And now that you are awake, we're working on taking them out, okay? Soon you'll be able to talk."

Joey continued to stroke Craig's hair. He looked the kid over. His face was pale and he had dark circles under his eyes. He noticed bruises on Craig's arms, some yellow and others blue and purple. He recalled how Craig always wore long sleeve shirts and jeans, even on the warmest summer days. He looked at the I.V. in Craig's left hand, and then noticed the cuts for the first time. Joey gently took Craig's hand and held it for a moment. His hand was limp and heavy.

Craig felt himself drifting back and realized Joey was holding his hand. He made an attempt to move his fingers, trying to curl them around Joey's hand. He felt so weak and tired. Joey took notice of Craig's attempt. He smiled reassuringly at Craig and used his other hand to stroke Craig's hair.

"Just take it easy," he said softly. "It's going to be okay now."

Joey turned over Craig's wrist to get a better look at the cuts. His hand was limp now. Craig made no attempt to show that he understood that Joey wanted to look at the cuts. Joey looked at Craig's face and saw that his eyes were barely open and he couldn't be sure if Craig was even looking at him. He didn't seem aware of what was going on.

Joey felt his heart ache as he looked at the cuts that were lined on Craig's wrist. The cuts were mostly shallow and it was obvious that Craig kept the blade away from the main vein in his wrist. The cutting was not an attempt at his life. Joey struggled to understand. Joey ran his fingers over the cuts and looked at Craig's face. Craig's eyes were closed now. Joey laid Craig's hand back down onto the bed.

He sighed and stroked Craig's hair again, wishing he would open his eyes again. Joey felt Robert's hand on his shoulder.

"I think that's about all you're going to get out of him tonight," Robert said softly.

"Can I stay here with him?" Joey asked.

"I can understand why you would want to, but I don't think it would benefit Craig any. He's barely aware of what's going on. He's just going to sleep for most of the night. He might wake up off and on, but it's going to be like now."

"What if he does wake up and there's no one familiar here and he doesn't understand what's going on?"

"Honestly, that's doubtful. It's going to be like it was now. Craig recognized you, yes. But he didn't have much of a response. He's too exhausted. And even if he does wake up frightened or confused, there's going to be nurses checking on him throughout the night and they can alert you if Craig asks for you or if he seems upset."

Joey was hesitant.

"I'll be here with him for awhile," Maya added.

"And after that, I can assure you that a nurse will be in here taking Craig's vitals every fifteen minutes and Dr. Elliot will be stopping in to look in on him. He's not alone here," The social worker reassured.

Joey nodded and turned away from Craig. It hurt him to leave Craig alone but he was realizing how exhausted he was and that it would be best if Craig was left to rest. Joey followed Robert out of trauma room 1.

"Just go get some rest. Craig is going to be fine," Robert reassured.

* * *

**Authors Note:** That ER scene was taken from _The Secret Life of Zoey_. I did a little bit of tweaking. I like to read all that medical-what-the-heck-are-they-saying stuff in angsty fics, so I'm including it here. 


	4. Waiting

**4. Waiting**

Joey sat in the waiting room on the same floor as Craig's hospital room, swirling his cold coffee and lost in his thoughts. He should go refill his cup with hot, semi-fresh coffee but that would require moving and he didn't think that he had the strength. He'd just wait for the next nurse to come by with words of encouragement about how he should go home and get some rest. He'd refuse, of course, and with that would come another cup of coffee. 

You'd think that he would be numb by this point, having witnessed the horror in the emergency room, the talk with the social worker, and the rush of mixed feelings as he visited Craig once he showed signs of being semi-responsive. But he wasn't numb. Well, he did feel half-dead but so much was surging through his mind. He kept cycling through emotions and flashbacks. Currently all he could feel was guilt and obsess about when this all started. The bruises Julia had seen while bathing a young Craig, what were they from? Childhood bumps and bruises or something more? And Craig's clinginess to his mother, where did that stem from? A side effect of divorce or abuse? What if all this time the signs were there but everyone, including Craig, had refused to see them?

Joey knew that it was going to be like pulling teeth to get Craig to admit what his home situation was really like. What else could you expect from a kid who thought his only solution was to overdose on pills? He didn't know the procedures for when investigating child abuse and was a little shell shocked that he was about to find out. He only knew the bare grim statistics on child abuse. And he knew it was more common than people would like to believe. All those kids can't be lost causes. He could help Craig. And he would.

Thankfully, the social worker seemed to approve of him wanting to be involved in Craig's life and he wasn't shooed out of the hospital ward. The staff let him lurk around and amused him with typical responses when he'd wander up to the nurses' station to inquire about Craig. Most of the time the reply was the same; "Craig is asleep. He's had a rough day. He won't know if you are here or not, go get some rest." But then he'd been informed that Craig was being taken off the ventilator and he knew he had to stay. Then, he'd finally been allowed to sit in Craig's room instead of taking up space in the waiting room. Joey figured they either got exhausted of his pestering or the social worker had cleared him with the staff.

The wait was a little bit more bearable since he knew that he would be the first thing Craig would see when he awakened. He owed that much to Julia and Angela.

* * *

Craig awoke disoriented. He looked around. The room was dimly lit but he could tell it was a hospital room. He tried to sit up, but the pain made him lay back down quickly. Craig found that it was hard to pinpoint the location that ached the most. Then he realized why he hurt. He began to remember the fights with his father; the memories slowly dipping into his mind, removing him from his current location, and placing him back at his father's. There was the yelling, the snap of the belt, the never ending sting, the carpet burning his cheek as he cowered on the floor, the taste of his tears, and the sick feeling of shame in the pit of his stomach. 

Craig blinked several times, slowly returning to the hospital room. He wanted those memories gone from his head. He didn't care how. He wanted it gone and he wanted it gone now. He began to feel panicked. He needed to get out of here. Maybe his dad was here. He didn't want to go home. Suicide began to creep back into his head, in its usual subtle way. Craig didn't even really consider suicide as death, as something final. It was just a way to shut all this off, he thought. He could find a way. He had to find a way to get away from all this. Craig lifted himself up again, cringing.

"Hey," a familiar voice said and Craig felt a pair of hands on his shoulders. "Hey, Craig, just relax."

Craig looked to his left and saw Joey. He felt somewhat relieved and very confused. This is the last person his father would allow to be here with him.

"Just lay back down okay?" Joey said as he eased Craig back down into bed, "You're in the hospital."

Craig couldn't figure out what he was feeling now. He wasn't sure if he was angry or sad. Everything was a mess. He tried to sit up again, reaching for the bed rail on the right side of the bed. He felt a tug on his left hand.

"Take it easy, "Joey urged and laid Craig down again. "You've got an I.V. in your left hand. When you reached over like that, it almost pulled out."

Craig looked at his hand and saw the I.V. He also noticed that something was on his chest. He reached up and felt his chest. Joey grabbed his hand.

"You're hooked up to a machine that's monitoring your breathing and heart. That's all that is. Just stay in bed."

Joey kept a firm hand on Craig's shoulder, reminding him to stay lying in bed. With his other hand, he stroked Craig's hair softly.

"You remember anything kiddo? About what's been going on?" Joey asked.

Craig shook his head, "Sort of." His throat ached as he choked out a response. He tried to clear his throat to rid his voice of the cracking but the pain brought tears to his eyes.

"Hey now, don't try to talk too much. You had a tube put down your throat so talking probably hurts," Joey said out of concern.

Craig was taken back with that information. Joey watched Craig's face as he processed this news. He wondered if the teen was all there.

"Do you remember coming to my house?" Joey asked softly.

"A little bit." Craig suddenly remembered that he wasn't supposed to be at Joey's. He remembered his father. "My dad…is he here? He's angry at me for being there isn't he? And he'd be mad about this. I don't want to see him, Joey."

"You don't have to see him if you don't want to."

"I don't."

"Okay, you don't have to," Joey said and rubbed Craig's shoulder, assuring him. Joey's heart ached as he remembered Craig's behavior at his house, the E.R., and what the social worker told him about the bruises and welts on Craig. He looked away for a moment and tried to collect himself. It took all of his willpower not to inquire about home, remembering that the social worker had discouraged him from bringing up the abuse with Craig. Joey knew that this had to be handled in a certain way but he couldn't stand the idea of Craig suffering in silent. Did he think that he had to keep quiet still? How much did he understand about this situation? Joey's gaze returned to Craig. The teen's eyes were half open and he stared blankly at the cardio-respiratory monitor beside him.

"I'm really cold," Craig mumbled.

Joey pulled the blankets up around Craig's shoulders. He sat close beside his stepson and watched him drift back into sleep.

* * *

"Craig, we need to talk about what happened the night you were brought into the E.R," Dr. Elliot began. 

Craig glared at Joey, feeling a strange sense of betrayal. It didn't make sense why he would blame Joey, he knew. Who knows, maybe he thought he would get him out of this mess. Now the doctors and nurses had seen the bruises, Craig figured. Oddly enough, those hadn't been mentioned yet. For the first day, there was just soothing words from nurses as they checked in on him, a quick visit from the doctor, and Joey constantly by his side. Craig was beginning to think that there would be no questions about the bruises. But it was day two now. Was that what this was about?

"You had to know that we were going to want to talk about that," the doctor continued.

Craig shook his head, "I don't even really remember that much."

"Do you remember what you took?"

Craig relaxed some. They wanted to talk about the pills. Yes, Craig remembered how he had been collecting his dad's pills. He hadn't even thought about why he was doing that at the time. It was like just one day he thought he'd start to sneak them. He didn't remember thinking about taking them as he was collecting them, or at least he hadn't directly thought about taking them all at once.

"I don't know," was Craig's reply. He was anxious to shrug off this whole mess.

"Okay, I'll tell you what you took. You had a pill bottle on you and in it was some Valium and Hydrocodone. So we ran a tox screen and that's what we found in your system."

Craig looked at Joey, whose eyes were filled with concern and sadness. "So…uhhh…I don't know what this means. Joey, I don't know what that means," he paused and frantically asked, "What are you thinking about me?"

"I'm concerned about you, concerned about what's going on with you. Where did you get drugs like that and what were you trying to do?" Joey carefully responded.

Craig stared down at his hands, looking at the I.V, then at the cuts on his wrist. They knew about all that now.

"So you think I'm messed up?"

"Craig, can you just stop and think about how I am feeling? All you keep saying is..." Joey realized what he was saying and quickly closed his mouth. Every once in awhile he was overcome with emotion when he thought about how selfish suicide was.

Craig said nothing. Then finally, "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"I know you didn't," Joey said and rubbed Craig's hand, "I know you didn't mean to hurt me, but you did. Because I thought you were going to die. You show up at my house and pass out on my floor. Do you remember what it was like that night? You were so out of it you could hardly talk and you were throwing up…right there in my living room. Do you remember any of that?"

Craig couldn't look Joey in the face. "No, not really."

"Do you remember how you couldn't breathe and your heart was racing?"

There was a pause and the silence ate away at Craig.

"I watched what happened in the E.R. They put tubes down your throat and your nose. And you were so still, you had no idea what was going on. And that frightened me…as much as when I was with your mother when she died. It was so terrifying because I had absolutely no control over what was going," Joey finished.

Craig didn't want to think about his mother, how much he missed her.

"So what's up Craig? Why take that many pills and then go to your stepfathers?" Dr. Elliot asked.

Craig was hesitant. "Am I in trouble for all this?"

"We're just trying to get the facts straight so we can help you. We need to know how to look at this situation. You took Valium and Hydrocodone. These are drugs that are frequently abused. We need to know if you need help for drug abuse. You took so many though, kiddo. Have you been taking them for awhile and couldn't get high off of one or two?" The doctor paused, "Or were you trying to kill yourself?"

Craig didn't answer.

'We are confused and concerned and need you to set us straight. So how about you tell us what's going on," Dr. Elliot said.

"Craig, please," Joey pleaded after a moment of silence.

Craig just said it, not seeing any harm in telling them what they pretty much already knew. "The Valium and Hydrocodone came from my dad. I found them in the medicine cabinet maybe a few weeks ago. I just started sneaking pills out. And I just held onto them. I don't know why. I wasn't thinking about selling them or anything. I wasn't thinking about taking them really. Things just happened."

"When did you take them?" the doctor asked. "When you were at Joey's?"

"No. I took them before. Maybe a half hour before, I'm not sure. A couple before I left my dad's, and then I took a bunch when I was right outside of Joey's. I didn't take them all at once. Just a couple now and then."

"What was your intention?"

"My intention?" Craig said and simply wanted everyone out of the hospital room now. And all that Joey was feeling was absolute horror at the idea that this kid had no idea what he was doing and nearly killed himself.

"You know you can get high off them. Was that what you were trying to do?" The doctor pressed.

"No…I don't think so," Craig said, unsure of the facts himself.

"Have you tried to high off them before?"

He shook his head.

"I know that day probably feels very hazy and unreal. Just do your best to tell us what you were thinking."

"I don't know what I was thinking. I wasn't trying to hurt you though," the teenager said, looking at Joey.

"I know, Craig" he said and pulled him into a quick hug. "I know."

"You were so upset at my house," Joey said as he rubbed Craig's back. "I wish I knew what was wrong, Craig."

The doctor shook his head at Joey.

"We don't have to talk about that though. It's enough just to know you are safe," Joey said quickly.

"I'm sorry. I just wasn't thinking clearly."

"I know," Joey said and released Craig. He looked him in the eyes and repeated. "I know."

"Craig, I need you to understand the consequences of your actions," Dr. Elliot started firmly but compassionately, "You could have died. You took drugs that all work to slow down your nervous system. The drugs you took work to slowdown the part of the deep brain that controls the rate and depth of breathing. People normally do not have to tell themselves to breathe, but when the nervous system becomes that slow, that's what happens. That's why you were put on a ventilator, because you couldn't breathe on your own," the doctor paused, "It only takes minutes to wind up with brain damage from lack of oxygen. And you could have wound up with severe liver damage. The liver is what detoxifies poisons that build up in the body. If you destroy the liver it's like never taking the garbage out. You could have done serious damage to yourself."

The teenager was silent. It made sense to him, but in a way it just didn't seem like it applied to him. The whole experience was surreal. The past few days have been like a dream, a really bad dream.

"So…" Craig scanned the hospital room, "uh…what now?"

"We're going to keep you here for a few days under observation. We need to make sure your system is recovering. And you are going to have to talk to a few people who need to make sure you are okay, emotionally."

"What? Like talk to shrinks?" The idea of talking to a psychiatrist frightened him. For sure someone like that could see right through everything he was trying to hide. "I'm fine."

"Craig…" Joey sighed. It seemed like they would make progress with him, then he would take a few steps back and they were back to where they were. He couldn't understand why the teenager had to become defensive over everything. Why would he do what he did, and then not let people help him?

"What?" Craig snapped at Joey, "I'm fine. I did something stupid. Maybe I was trying to get high or something, I don't remember. It was just stupid."

Joey shook his head and couldn't look at his stepson. "I can't…Craig, I've got to go."

Craig's eye widened as he watched Joey get up out of his chair and headed for the door. "No…wait Joey…please don't leave."

Then Craig threw his hands up in the air. "Everyone leaves anyways. They die or they just leave," he said to the doctor.

That stopped Joey dead in his tracks. Every time this kid spoke, it was like a kick to the stomach or a punch to the heart. He had seen his stepson come to his house and fall apart. He watched him as he had nearly died from an overdose. He sat by his hospital bed, waiting for him to wake up. Joey felt so tired and sore. He paused by the door, then turned around and approached his stepson's bed.

"Craig, I'm worried about you. I've been by your side, trying to be here for you. And you act like this is no big deal or…I don't know. I know this hard on you. But I'm tired of wondering and I just want to know. Were you trying to kill yourself? You haven't said it, but that's what it sounds like to me. So just level with me."

Craig looked down, his forehead crunched up in thought. He looked over his hands and arms. He looked at the I.V. and the cuts, then at the bruises on his arms. The bruises from my dad, he thought sadly, from hitting and grabbing me. He felt a familiar ache in his heart and then a sense of desperation.

"I just wanted to get away. I don't know if that meant death. Things just got…" he paused and looked at his stepfather, "too intense. And not because of anything you did or anything. It was just…too intense."

His stepfather was beside him now and pulled him into a hug, "Okay. So let these people help you out then. Let them help you make things so they aren't that intense."

Craig nodded in agreement and didn't fight the embrace. He figured he had to agree or he would lose Joey, the last person in his family he had left.

* * *

The social worker entered Craig Manning's hospital room and found the young patient lying in bed awake, but in a daze. He had his head turned away from his watchful stepfather and was gazing towards the window, watching the rain beat against the glass. Joey took notice of the social worker right away and nodded at him. Joey was thankful for this interruption. He wasn't sure if Craig's silence was simply because of medication, out of the exhaustion he felt as he recovered, or if Craig was punishing him for some reason known only to Craig. He wasn't sure why he was getting the brunt of Craig's anger. Someone had to, he supposed. During Joey's most tired moments, he mildly annoyed and moderately hurt by Craig's denial and anger. Maybe he figured that with what Craig had been through, Craig was entitled to it. 

"Hey there Craig," the social worker began. He managed to get the young teenager to glance in his direction, "I'm Robert Schaffer and I'm a social worker. I met you the night when you were first brought in to the E.R. I don't think you remember too much of that though, do you?"

"Not much," Craig said softly and returned his gaze to the window.

"Craig," Joey started and rubbed Craig's forearm. "I'm going to run downstairs and get a cup of coffee okay?"

This got his stepson's attention. "Can't you stay here?" he asked, glancing at the social worker.

"Is it okay if it's just you and me talking, Craig?" Robert said as he took a seat on the other side of Craig's hospital bed.

Craig looked at Joey for an answer.

"Hey, I'll be right back. It's okay. I've talk to him before, he's a good guy," Joey said and headed for the door, "I'll be back in a few. It's okay."

"So how you been feeling lately?" Robert asked.

"Tired," Craig said dismissively.

"You had a rough night when you were first brought into the hospital, huh?"

"I know you know about it," the teenager said defensively. "Just…stop…Just say it already."

"I know about the pills you took, yes. The doctor and I have discussed it. We don't have to talk about anything heavy today. I just wanted to introduce myself and get to know you a little bit."

The social worker made small talk with the teenager, asking him about his hobbies and favorite bands. He could tell that he was still defensive and earning this young man's trust was going to be hard.

"So what are you going to do the day you get out of here?"

Craig was shocked. Surprisingly, he hadn't even thought about leaving. He actually felt safer than he had in months. "I, uh…I don't know."

"Are you anxious to get out?"

"Nah, I get to lie around and read and watch TV," Craig said and managed to force a smile on his face.

"I bet you are looking forward to some real food though, instead of hospital food."

"I have a serious craving for some pizza," Craig admitted. That stomach pump had weakened him and the bland hospital food wasn't exactly desirable.

"Yeah? I could bring a one in."

"Why are you being so nice to me?" the words had just slipped out of Craig's mouth.

Craig saw concern and touch of sadness in the social workers eyes. "You've been through a lot. I'm just trying to make your stay here easier. So I'll bring a pizza in and maybe you and I can talk some more?"

Craig was hesitant to nod. It didn't take a rocket scientist to see how this would play out. Meanwhile Robert smiled at Craig, figuring that he could address the larger issue at hand around the third visit. Craig politely nodded but clenched his jaw some. He knew that even though he was down, he was not out. Not by a long shot. He was going to fight with everything he had to keep this a secret. There was a soft voice in his head that assured him that they knew it already and maybe the biggest battle was that he just didn't want to accept how dangerous his relationship with his father had become. He hurt, God, everything hurt. Through all this, he knew that blame had to be placed somewhere. But why didn't they realize that it was partially his fault? And why didn't they understand how much damage he'd do once he spoke up?

* * *

Just wanted to say thanks to everyone who's reading this story and special thanks goes out to those who are taking the time to leave a review. As a reader, I know that it's easy to just move on or sometimes you just don't know what to say. As a writer, I know that even a few words are appreciated. Thanks guys! 


	5. Hush

** 5. Hush**

Joey sat in the vinyl chair next to Craig's hospital bed. His neck was sore from the uncomfortable catnaps and his heart still felt so heavy. The sunlight was slowly spilling from under the curtain and this confirmed that Craig had slept through the night. He could have gone home, home to his comfortable bed and fresh coffee, but he just couldn't get himself to do it. Craig had merely shrugged when Joey had asked if he wanted him there through the night. He almost had left, figuring that it wasn't like Craig was Angela's age and he'd be fine here alone for the night. But then he recalled the conversation he and the doctor had with Craig about his overdose and how destroyed Craig looked when the situation got to him and he nearly left.

Joey never had any intention of walking out of that hospital room and never returning. He just had to get out for a little bit. The memories of Julia's fight with cancer and ultimate passing echoed in the haunting image of Craig's overdose and it was too much to bear. He hoped that the teenager recognized that he didn't intend to abandon him. Out of fear that Craig didn't believe he was here for the long haul, he basically had been camping out in the waiting room or Craig's hospital room. His, Angela's, and Craig's lives were being put on hold at the moment. It was just waiting. Joey wasn't sure where Albert Manning was. He assumed that he was being questioned just like he had been and was lying low. But was Albert the type to just roll over and play dead? He doubted it so he stayed close by Craig. He owed that much to Julia. And to Craig. He was barely fourteen, how would he ever be able to defend himself?

Craig looked much younger as he twitched slightly and occasionally mumbled in his sleep. Joey watched him intently. Should he wake the boy up? It was obvious he was dreaming. Was he crying in his sleep? Joey sighed and gently touched his stepson's head.

"Craig?" he questioned softly and watched as the teen's eyes flew open. He felt Craig jerk slightly as he came out of sleep. "You are okay," Joey soothed.

Craig nodded weakly and met Joey's eyes. It was in these first few moments of waking that he actually allowed his guard to go down and accepted Joey as some kind of parental figure. He let the hunger for attention and love be met in these moments, before his brain began turning and tossing out reminders of his current situation.

"Bad dream?" Joey asked.

Craig cleared his throat but noticed that his voice was still sleepy. "Um, sort of." It was quiet for several minutes and Joey was surprised that they both weren't uncomfortable with the silence. Then Craig looked at him with tear filled eyes. "I miss my mom," was all that needed to be said.

Joey rubbed Craig's shoulder. He had a feeling that this kid wasn't allowed to grieve at all or even mention his mother at home with Albert Manning. All of the pain had just built up inside Craig over the years, Joey figured. Add that with the abuse he was enduring at home and Joey could understand why Craig had attempted suicide.

"Did you have a dream about her, kiddo?" Joey asked, still rubbing Craig's shoulder.

"Yeah," Craig answered. "It was a nice dream though…but those are usually the worst. Cause she's not here anymore, you know?" he explained. He never knew why he would wake up crying when the dreams were recreations of memories.

"Yes, I know exactly what you are talking about," Joey answered. "Oh hey…the hospital staff found some pictures in your pockets the night you were brought in. Do you want to look at them? I saw one of your mom in there."

Craig nodded.

Joey got up and went to the closet in the hospital room. He looked through a paper bag that contained some clothes he had picked up for Craig to wear home. He found the plastic bag that contained the money and pictures the staff had found in Craig's pockets. He took out a few of the pictures and put the cash and the rest of the pictures back in the closet.

"Here you go," Joey said and handed Craig a picture of his mom. Joey looked over a few others. He noticed that the pictures looked like they had been torn and crumpled up. "How come the pictures are so beat up?" he asked.

"Oh…Dad found them and threw them out. I took them out of the garbage though. I don't really have too many pictures of my mom."

Joey felt anger shot through him but he tried to suppress it for Craig's sake. He was dumbfounded by how casual Craig sounded as he explained the situation.

"Here's one of Angie. And then one from my and Julia's wedding day," Joey said and handed Craig the pictures. Joey noticed a weak smile when Craig saw the picture of Angie.

"I can bring in some pictures if you like," Joey offered. "Oh, I almost forgot." He reached into his jacket pocket, unfolded a piece of paper, and was unaware of the silver glitter sprinkling onto the floor.

"Angie made a drawing for you last night," Joey said. He noticed how Craig's eyes lit up at the mere mention of Angie.

Joey handed the drawing over. "She said that at school they read a book about a safari in Africa. That's what the drawings about." Joey noticed a weak smile on his stepson's face. The purple elephants and child-like scribbles almost made Craig forget why he was here in the hospital.

"Angie said that maybe one day you'll go off to Africa and take pictures like the ones she saw in the book," Joey continued. Craig alternated his gaze between the drawing and the snapshot of his sister. He flipped through the pictures slowly and stayed on the one of a Christmas celebration the longest.

"Do you think that…my grandparents…I mean Angela's grandparents…might want to see me sometime?" Craig asked, his eyes shifting from the photograph over to his stepfather.

"I'm sure they would, Craig. They've asked me about you many times. I just assumed that they were making conversation but…you haven't heard from them?"

Craig just shook his head. He thought it was something he did and that's why he'd never heard from them. Or maybe it was because he didn't have his mother anymore. He wasn't entirely sure.

He'd been allowed to see his paternal side, of course. But they were perfect and there was no way that he could ever be the real Craig around them. His mind began to drift to thoughts about Joey and Angela being the perfect family. His stomach tightened a little bit at the thought of that. Was this the same thing? His head began to throb as he made comparisons and his heart began to ache as well once he realized that he was never really sure what a family was. He felt himself growing exhausted as his thoughts raced. Why couldn't his brain just stay focused on the good times? Instead he started thinking about much he missed his mother. It was this stupid hospital; it was reminding him of her struggle with cancer. The one she lost.

Thankfully, he didn't see her suffering at its worst. His father kept close tabs on him and the visitations were strictly enforced, despite the advice of legal counsel. But Craig wanted to be there, savoring every sight of her. His father said he should remember her as when she was healthy. He thought that maybe he did have his best interest in mind. But he needed to take in what last moments he could, what last words she'd give him. And then she'd died. It made no sense.

He wondered if his suicide attempt was an insult to her since she fought so hard. He looked at Joey with questioning eyes. How could he ever phrase this?

"Hey, buddy, are you okay?" Joey asked.

"My mom…I wish that I could have died and she could have lived," the words just fell out of his mouth. He watched Joey's mouth drop.

"Craig…we have to get you feeling better so those kinds of thoughts go away," was the only thing Joey could think of to say.

Craig set the photos aside and sighed in response. Then he rolled over and turned himself away from his stepfather, the photographs of things that never would be again, and the drawing his little sister had made that somehow captured how things should be.

* * *

Joey had been given forms to busy himself with as Craig was being interviewed by the social worker. He felt bad for Craig, who was basically being ambushed at this very moment. He had been informed of the time they hoped to discuss the abuse with Craig and Joey had immediately requested to be there, but was quickly denied. 

"_I'm sorry, Mr. Jeremiah," Dr. Elliot said. "But you can't be with us during while we question Craig for several reasons. One being that you are not his legal guardian. We've only been releasing information to you and allowing visits because you are his immediate family. Second, Craig might be too ashamed to discuss the details with you in the room."_

_Joey nodded slowly, "Okay, I understand."_

"_I appreciate your concern and I can see you care a lot for your stepson. I'm sure Craig is grateful you are here. But we are starting to get into the legal issues of what's going on and I just can't take any chances. I'm going to go talk to Craig now. His social worker will also be there. We're letting Craig's nurse be present also, for support."_

So Joey was left out in the hall to pace and try to distract himself with paperwork that would finalize Craig's living arrangements. His stomach ached as he hoped that this would conclude this whole mess and he would be rewarded custody, even if it was only temporary. The situation could not be avoided legally, he'd been told. As much as it hurt Craig or interrupted their lives, there were procedures. In a way, Joey was thankful for them because he was certain that Albert would not just go along with Craig moving in with him.

This whole mess was like being stuck in traffic. It was a go with being allowed to see Craig. A stop with the hospital staff and the social worker talking to Craig about the abuse; Robert had mentioned that there was no way that they could force the teen to talk about his home life and if he refused…well, they'd try to stall it, but ultimately he could be returned to his father's custody. All this was in Craig's hands now. Just be strong, Joey silently encouraged Craig.

* * *

Craig's muscles were so stiff that they ached. He sat rigid and still as the nurse took his blood pressure. The nurse was the first to enter the hospital room. He recognized her and knew that she had previously explained to him that her name was Maya and she had met him the first night he was brought into the hospital. The second familiar face to enter the room was the social worker. His mouth went dry when the doctor came in. Something was happening. He wasn't in control again. 

"Hey Craig. How you doing today?" Dr. Elliot asked and stood over by the nurse. He watched as she wrote down some notes on Craig's files. He looked over his notes quickly.

"I'm good," Craig answered, urging himself to keep calm.

"You are looking good. A lot better than when you first came in," Dr. Elliot said. "Is it alright if we all sit down to talk?"

Craig looked slightly troubled, "About what? We talked about what I took."

"Yes. Now we need to talk about what we found when we were treating you for the overdose," the doctor paused. "Craig, as I was examining you, I found that you have a lot of bruises and marks on your body. Most of them are on your torso. Some are old and some look fresh, like they had just happened the day you were brought in. So we need to talk about those bruises."

Craig was first shocked and a bit afraid of what this meant. It was quickly replaced by a jolt of anger. He prepared himself for questions or accusations. He suddenly didn't trust the hospital staff that was in his room. He refused to look at anyone in the room.

"Fine," he muttered. The staff sensed a touch of desperation in his voice.

"We need to talk to you about them. Tell us how you got them," Dr. Elliot urged.

Craig shook his head, "I don't really feel like it right now. I just want to go back to sleep."

"Sorry, kiddo," Robert, social worker said. "We've left you alone for the past few days, but we've got to talk about it now."

Craig clenched his fists and struggled to think. "It's not a big deal," he started. "I skateboard."

"How'd you fall?" the doctor asked.

Craig looked over at the doctor, confused. "What?"

"How did you fall when you were skateboarding?"

The doctor watched as Craig grew more tense and frustrated.

"I don't know what you mean," he said and ran a hand through his hair.

"Hey, I'm not that old, I know about skateboarding," Dr. Elliot said, trying to keep the conversation a bit light and on a personal level so Craig didn't feel like he was being interrogated. "I finished med school and my residency here not too long ago. And believe me, I've seen some bad skateboarding accidents come into the E.R. So, what I mean is, when you are doing a certain trick, you tend to fall a certain way."

Craig worked his mind around this piece of information for a moment. "I don't remember," he shrugged trying to brush it off like it didn't mean anything to him. "I fell on my right side," he lied as he recalled the swift kicks his father would administer.

The doctor nodded and Craig thought he had accepted the lie. "Okay. How about your back?"

The teenager glanced over their faces and snapped, "I don't know why it's any of your business. I don't know why it matters."

"Craig, it became my business when you were brought in unconscious after you had taken an overdose of painkillers and sedatives."

"Yeah, well it wasn't freakin' supposed to work that way," Craig muttered angrily under his breath.

"I don't think you meant to kill yourself," Robert said. Craig quickly lifted his gaze to the social worker's face, suspicious. "If you had wanted to kill yourself, you wouldn't have gone to Joey's. You went there because you were looking for help, right?"

Craig was silent and tried to figure out how to get these people to leave him alone. What did they want him to say? What can I say to get out of this, he thought frantically.

"We're trying to help you out, Craig," Robert urged.

"We already talked about the pills," Craig answered. "Why do we have to talk about that again? I told you what I took and when I took it."

"That's right, we talked about the pills. Now we need to talk about where you got all those bruises. What happened to your back?"

I walked into that one, Craig thought angrily.

"Same as the others. Skateboarding," Craig said quickly and tried to remain calm. He tried to act like he was just shrugging it off. As he spoke, he looked the doctor in the face this time. He thought that might make it more convincing. He watched the doctor nod, and his forehead crinkled up in concern.

"They look like welts to me, Craig," Dr. Elliot said softly and hoped Craig could sense his concern.

Craig lowered his eyes and didn't answer.

"A person gets those nasty marks when they are hit with a belt," Robert added.

"I don't want to talk about this!" Craig nearly screamed, looking up at the social worker.

"I know you don't," Robert said and watched as Craig's eyes began to fill with tears. "And I think that's why you took the pills."

"So can we just stop?"

The social worker shook his head.

"I told you what happened," Craig said angrily.

"Alright, Craig. I believe you," Robert said, "You hurt yourself skateboarding huh?"

The fourteen year old nodded, almost defiantly.

"Okay, there's no reason to keep you here then. Maya will call your dad and we'll have him come up here. We'll all probably have to get together and talk some more, this time about how you overdosed at Joey's."

"What?"

"You live with your dad right? You're going home," Robert said. He wrote a quick note on a form and handed the charts to Maya.

The nurse scanned them over and nodded, "I'll go get things ready for your discharge, Craig. Your dad will be here soon, kiddo." She gently touched his shoulder and he just stared at her in shock.

He opened his mouth, but couldn't figure out what to say. He watched Maya leave the room. He felt a familiar hopelessness sink in. As he thought about his dad, he began to forget where he was. He felt himself drifting off, his thoughts taking him deeper into his mind and out of reality. It was a familiar panicked process as he tried to figure out how his dad would react- could he prevent it? If I could just get away, he thought.

"Hey," Robert said as he rubbed Craig's forearm. "We're still here if you want to talk."

"I don't want to go home," Craig said softly. He stared down at the blanket that was around him.

"What's going on at home, Craig?"

Craig dropped his head back in frustration and exhaustion. His eyes were wet with tears. "I don't know how to say it."

"A lot to sort through huh? You don't have to figure it out on your own. Just let us help you."

Craig nodded, "It's my fault anyways."

"What's your fault?"

"Why things happen. I screw up. And it just happens."

"What happens when you screw up?" Robert asked softly.

"My dad gets angry at me. He's angry a lot. But his work is stressful. He's a doctor too," Craig said and looked over at Dr. Elliot, "he's a surgeon."

The doctor pulled up a chair and sat at the head of Craig's bed, "Yeah it is kind of a stressful job. When I get stressed out, I like to go to the gym and work out."

"Are you angry a lot of the time?"

Dr. Elliot was a bit surprised, "No, I'm not. I work in the E.R. mostly, and I see a lot of stuff and a lot at once. But I enjoy what I do. I like to help people. It does get stressful though. When I get too frustrated and just feel like things aren't going right, I like to just go for a run and clear my head. What's your dad do when he's stressed out or frustrated?"

Craig took a deep breath and then sighed, "Not that. He just…expects me to be a certain way I guess."

"What happens when you aren't that way?" Robert asked.

Nothing was said for a few moments, as the staff waited to see if the tough love would have some affect on the teen. The doctor sat patiently beside Craig and the social worker was on the other side. Not that he saw them; there was no way he could meet their eyes. Not with what he was about to say. Just say it, say something, he told himself.

"I get hit."

Craig anxiously awaited the reply. He looked up at the social worker first, then over at Dr. Elliot.

"You don't deserve to be hit," Dr. Elliot replied, "No matter how stressed out your dad is or even how much you screw up."

Craig nodded weakly, not fully believing him.

"I know it's going to take awhile to realize that Craig," Robert said. "We're going to help you get better okay?"

"Can I just stay here for awhile?"

"Yep. You're staying here," he assured and watched Craig relax considerably. "You just get some rest. We're going to have to talk more later, but the hard part is over."

* * *

"Alright, Craig, ready to go?" the social worker asked as he entered Craig's room. 

The teenager sat on the hospital bed, dressed in jeans and a burgundy sweatshirt. Craig had the TV on, but was muted and his gaze was blank. He nodded in response but was slow to move. He began to pull his sneakers on.

"At least I get to wear clothes now," he muttered, "Nice to have shoes. Makes things feel more normal. It's just… like…one thing that's normal."

As he bent down to tie his shoe, his shirt sleeve raised and he noticed the hospital ID bracelet, "When do I get rid of this though?" he asked and gestured to the bracelet.

"You're not being released from the hospital yet, so you still have to wear that."

"Oh," was Craig's only reply.

Robert nodded and lead Craig down the hall, "At least you get out of that hospital room for awhile." He unlocked a door and lead Craig into a small office. Craig immediately took note of the camera that was set up. He swallowed hard, his throat dry.

"Craig, today's going to be another rough day," Robert said softly, "We're going to have to talk more about how things are at home with dad, more in detail this time. I will be asking you a lot of questions. For some, I'm going to want you tell me what happened. Others are just going to be yes or no questions. And we're going to try to figure out some sort of time line, figure out when things occurred. It's just going to be me and you today. And you've no doubt noticed the video camera. This is to document everything that is said. We do this so you only have to be questioned once and the officials can refer to the video for information."

"I don't think I can do this," Craig said, shaking his head. "I don't want my dad to get in trouble."

"Craig, it's almost out of our hands now. The doctor and I had to report the abuse. If you don't go through with this, you might have to go back and live with your dad. If you want what's best for you and what's best for him, talk to me. Try to ignore the camera. Just act like it's me and you talking. You just have to be honest. We are going to ask you direct questions and you just answer them the best you can."

"What's going to happen to my dad?"

"We're going to try to get him some help. He has some anger issues. He'll have doctors of his own to help him. Maybe he was abused also. He needs help."

"Is he going to go to jail?"

"I'm not sure Craig. If the people trying to help him think that's the only solution, then yes. But I think they will try to get him some psychological help."

"Cause I won't do this if he goes to jail."

"You have to go through with this. Otherwise you will end up going back home with him and he will continue to hurt you. You have to think about what's best for you."

Craig was silent for a minute. He looked at Robert and said sadly, "I guess that's what I have to do then."

Robert patted the back of a chair that was set directly across from the camera, "I'd like you to take a seat here." He walked over to the camera and touched the back of a chair that was beside it. "I'll be sitting here. I won't be sitting beside you because I want you to be looking at me when you answer the questions, and then you are facing the camera."

Craig sat down in the chair and awkwardly looked around the room.

"Okay," Robert went over to the camera. "I'm going to turn this on now. It's going to feel kind of formal. I'll be asking you your name, about your family, basic stuff at first. Just try to relax."

Robert checked the focus of the camera and to make sure Craig was in the frame. He pressed the record button and then sat down.

"This is Child Protective Services. Case number 1001736. Can you please state your name?"

Numbers were defining him now. That string of numbers verified how cold and clinical this all was. Just don't be here, Craig argued in his head. "Craig Manning," he managed to say.

"How old are you Craig?"

"Fourteen." He could hear himself speaking, but he couldn't feel his lips moving. He was numb all over.

"And your mother and father's name?"

"Julia Jeremiah and Albert Manning." Craig Manning. Albert Manning. Would his name be all that he had left of his father?

"Your mother and father are divorced?"

"Yes." People leave you all the time, Craig heard way back in his head.

"When did they divorce?"

"When I was eight."

"Your mother has since passed away correct?"

"Yes." People will leave you, Craig heard again. The voice was louder, the doubts stronger.

"How old were you when she passed away?"

"I was twelve." But really, it felt like yesterday, Craig realized.

"You have lived with your father since the divorce?"

"Yes." Try to remember the facts, Craig urged himself.

"What is your relationship with your father like?"

Craig froze; trying to summarize everything was hard. "Um, well he's a surgeon so he's always taken care of me. He makes me my favorite foods when he's home and isn't working. He even set up a photography darkroom in the basement for me. He's not around much because of his job though. And his job is stressful, so I guess our relationship is kind of…difficult."

"How is it difficult?"

"I never know what kind of mood he's going to be in. So I'm always trying to be careful of what I say or do. And we fight a lot, cause he's stressed out."

"What do you mean when you say you fight a lot?"

Craig shifted in his chair and looked around the room, "I, uh, I just do something wrong. And he gets angry and yells and stuff."

"What do you mean by stuff?"

"He hits me."

"When was the first time your father hit you?

Craig held back tears; he couldn't believe he was doing this to his father. He looked down to try to stop the tears from falling. He didn't understand why he felt sad about this, why it was a big deal even. When he looked up, the camera was staring back at him. "I'm not sure. After my mom had died I think. It's been happening for a few years now."

"How often does he hit you?"

"Ummm….it wasn't always this bad. I mean at first, it was just like he'd push me or shake me or hit me once and that was rare, like maybe once a month. But now…I don't know. It happens often. Really often," Craig sighed.

He alternated between feeling too much and too little as the questions dragged out. He was scarcely aware when he spoke sometimes. It was easier to pretend that this all just wasn't real. He felt his head growing lighter with all the questions; how was he hit, how many times, what was he hit with, and did it leave bruises. Some of the questions made his jaw drop with shock and others left him raw and numb.

"Okay Craig, that's it. You did a great job."

Craig was suddenly hit with the realization that it was over with. The numbness began to fade and he was hit with a panic, "I don't want this to make it sound like my dad hated me. I don't want him to…I just don't want him to think I am hurting him by doing this."

"This is all to help you and him, Craig."

"Well, it's my fault though."

"Why is it your fault?"

"I should have tried harder."

"You are fourteen years old, a minor. Your father is much older than you and he has the responsibility of taking care of you physically and emotionally. I can tell you care about your father and you want to make him proud of you right?"

Craig nodded, not wanting to admit that maybe he just wanted the guy around cause of labels like "father" and "dad" and maybe he really did hate him.

"You want to listen to what he says and believe he knows what's best for you. And it's hard to refuse a parent who is physically aggressive."

Craig nodded again, weak from the conversation.

The social worker paused to see if the teenager had anything else to add. Then he turned off the camera.

"So, do you feel like going for a walk outside or do you want to go back to your room?" Robert asked.

Craig slowly got to his feet. He looked at Robert like this was harder to answer than the questions he just answered in the interview. He shrugged, "It's like I can't think. I have no idea."

"We'll just go back to your room then?"

Craig followed Robert down the hall, "I guess. Where's Joey?"

"He might be in the waiting room. I know he's around the hospital," the social worker smiled in reassurance. "He knows you were doing this interview today."

Craig suddenly felt a sense of panic. He didn't follow the social worker into the hospital room. He continued down the hall, towards the waiting room.

"Craig?" the social worker was at his side again quickly, "What's up? Where you going?"

"He's not going to leave me again. It's not going to happen that way again. I need to see Joey."

Robert put his arm around Craig's shoulders, his concern growing. "Okay, we'll check out the waiting room alright?"

Craig quickly scanned the waiting area. He saw no sign of Joey. His heart began to pound and he couldn't breathe. He turned around and briskly headed for the elevator. Robert was right behind him. As they passed the nurses station, he gestured to them quickly.

Craig began to punch at the elevator buttons.

"Craig, Joey is around here. And if he's not, we'll call him. Let's just go wait in your room."

He kept punching at the down button on the elevator panel. "No. I want out of here. And I just don't trust you or Joey or anyone anymore."

"Hey," the social worker said and touched Craig's shoulder, "Where is this coming from?"

Craig jerked away from Robert. "Everyday around here….I never know what's going to happen. I never know what I'll have to do today. And I'm sick of it. Just leave me alone."

"Craig?"

Craig whirled around at the sound of the familiar voice and saw Joey standing next to a nurse. He was first relieved, then suspicious and angry again.

"Come on, let's just go back to your room," Joey urged and extended his hand out to him.

Craig pressed the buttons at the elevator panel again, "I just don't think that…I want to do that right now. I just want to be alone right now." He hit the elevator door in frustration.

Joey looked at the social worker, bewildered by Craig's actions.

"He's upset and agitated from the interview. It's just brought up a lot of painful feelings," the social worker said to Joey.

"I hate how you people are always talking about me like I can't hear you, like I'm off in my own little world," Craig angrily gestured towards himself. He was tired of the hushed talks that were happening outside his hospital room. "I'm right here and I'm sick of being treated like I'm this messed up kid who has the mean father."

Craig felt two hands grip his shoulders firmly. He looked to his left and saw Dr. Elliot.

"Okay, stop acting like a messed up kid and quit yelling. Look around," the doctor said softly.

The teenager glanced around and saw that the staff at the nurses' station and people from the waiting room had entered the hallway and were staring at him from a distance. He looked down. "Oh my god," he mumbled.

"Take it easy," Dr. Elliot encouraged, but kept his grip on the teen firm.

Craig's stance softened as he sighed. "I'm so tired of all this."

"How about if I take you back to your room and you can relax there for the rest of the day?"

Craig sighed heavily in response.

"Take it easy. I'm not here to hurt you. Robert and Joey aren't here to hurt you. We are trying to keep you safe. Once you start acting aggressive and talking about how you want to leave, we get concerned. Where do you think you are going? Do you even know, Craig? I'm still concerned and that's why I'm going to be right here. So let me take you back to your room."

"Fine," he sighed and let himself be lead back to the hospital room. He sat back down on the hospital bed. Joey sat down next to him.

"Is it okay that I'm here?" he asked cautiously.

Craig nodded, "Its fine. I don't know why I was angry or if I'm still angry or what I'm feeling."

"Cause of the interview?" Joey asked and glanced at Robert.

"I don't know."

"Craig, can you take these for me?" Dr. Elliot handed Craig a medicine cup containing two blue tablets and a glass of water, "Just something to calm you down."

"I listened to what you said. I came back here…why…" Craig trailed off.

"It's not going to put you to sleep. It will make you more relaxed."

Craig took the tablets. Joey rubbed Craig's arm in assurance.

"Open your mouth for me, please," the doctor instructed, "Lift up your tongue."

Craig obeyed, and then said "You think I was going to tongue them and sneak out or what?"

Dr. Elliot patted Craig's shoulder, "Are you still thinking about leaving? Where did you think you were going to go? You saw that Joey was here."

Craig shrugged, "I don't know. I'm just tired of all this and I was just feeling freaked out."

"Craig, please stay here. If you run away, it's going to make things so much worse. You know that I care about you. You're coming with me to my home soon. Have you changed your mind, is that what's going on?" Joey asked.

"No," he answered quickly, "I want to live with you. I don't know what I was doing. I don't know why I was angry or whatever. I don't even remember what just happened hardly."

"Okay, Craig, we're going to have a nurse checking on you every 15 minutes," Dr. Elliot said.

The teenager looked down at his hands, "So we're back to that, just because I screwed up?"

"It's not a punishment. It's to make sure you are safe. I realize that you are under a great deal of stress and a lot has changed in your life this past week. You haven't screwed up. But we have to get you to understand more about your emotions and your actions. And I know that's going to take time. Just let us help you."

Craig nodded. He was feeling the tranquilizer kick in.

"One more thing," Dr. Elliot began, "We're going to take away your shoes. You can wear your normal clothes but you can't wear your shoes."

Craig could only stare at the doctor in confusion.

"The reason for that is that you are less likely to run away if you don't have your shoes."

Joey had to add something. "It's okay, Craig. This is just a little thing. Nothing to worry about."

"I wasn't even going to leave," Craig tried to explain.

"It looked like you were," Dr. Elliot said firmly, "Can you take off your shoes for me?"

Craig obeyed and handed his Converse sneakers to the doctor.

"I know this seems very strange. We are trying to protect you. And this is one way we do that. You'll be out of here soon and things will start to return to normal."

"Okay," Craig said softly. The Xanax seemed to make everything hurt a little bit less and he wasn't so overwhelmed with the day's messed up events.

"I'll see you a bit later," Dr. Elliot said and headed for the door, "Take it easy."

He was left with Joey and the social worker. "I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it," Joey said and rubbed Craig's forearm. "It all worked out."

"Yep, nothing to worry about. I'm going to leave you here with Joey if that's okay with you," Robert said. He watched Craig nod and lean back against the hospital pillow. The teenager was relaxing. He touched Joey's shoulder, "Alright if I take off?"

"That's fine. I'll stay right here," Joey said and watched his stepson with concern.

"Wow," Craig mumbled and looked around the hospital room. His eyes rested on Joey, "I'm a lot calmer, that's for sure."

"Can I give you a hug, kiddo? I was thinking about you the whole time when you were talking to the social worker. That had to be hard," Joey said and was relieved that Craig accepted his embrace. He rubbed his stepson's back. "Sorry I wasn't right there when it was over with."

"No. That's fine. It's so weird, I wanted to find you and then…I dunno. It's like I can't trust anyone."

"I don't blame you, after what you've been through with your dad. I just want you to know that it's not going to be like that at my house. And you aren't alone, remember that. You are going to have people around you that will support you. You'll be seeing Robert after you leave the hospital and you know you can trust him. He'll help you work out the things that in your head. And I can even try to help you with that. Just try to let me know what's going on. Let me know when you don't feel safe. Let us be here for you okay?"

Joey lowered his arms and allowed Craig to be free from his embrace. Craig didn't let go of him, so Joey put an arm around him again.

"I'm trying to. It just hurt so bad…my dad…I wanted so much for him to love me you know? And…what's really horrible is that I was thinking about my mom and I was feeling pissed at her."

"Why were you angry at your mom?"

"Cause she's not here. And I know…I know that was out of everyone's control. But…after the divorce, I just wish I could have been with you and her and not my dad. I mean it didn't really start until after she died. But maybe it could have all been different," Craig said and broke free of Joey's embrace so he could watch his face.

"I wish it would've worked out that way too. I'm not sure why it didn't. I know, Craig I know that your mother would not have let you live with him if she knew what he was doing."

"She knew what he was like though," Craig protested.

"Did your dad ever hit Julia…um, your mom?" Joey inquired. He watched as Craig's face scrunched up as he thought. He had to remind himself to keep breathing as he waited for the reply.

"I know it sounds weird, but it just seems so long ago. Um, I'd hide in my closet when I'd hear yelling," Craig said and laughed nervously at himself. "He…never mind, I don't want to think about this right now. Wow, this medicine…it's just making me talk."

"No, Craig, it's okay. Get it out."

"So she knew what he was like. Why would she leave me with him?"

"Maybe she thought he wouldn't hurt you. I know she wouldn't leave you with him if she thought he would hurt you. Your mother loved you very much and tried to see you as often as she could. Craig, I can tell your dad loves you too. It's just a confusing type of love. He's very possessive of you, I knew that early on. He's too controlling, he has a short temper, and maybe some other issues. He's got to work through all that. And you are helping him by doing all this. He's going to get help."

"I hope it all works out."

"It's going to," Joey assured. "You've done everything just right so far. I'm very proud of you. Let's just hang out for the rest of the day and watch some TV. Get a pizza later maybe? No more pressure. It's all working out and you'll be out of here soon."

"Sounds good. I want to have a normal life again. I want to be happy and just be normal."

**Authors note: **I'm not sure about the whole legal process of investigating abuse. I mean, I am confident with this but I'm no social worker. I'm just going on some basic research. I'm assuming that if this were reality, there would be a bit of a pause while someone recovered from an overdose. But the stall might be a bit exaggerated here, mainly to add to the angst. I'm sure that in reality, social workers/police get to business pretty quick. Also, I think that it's only sexual abuse victims who are excused from court and do a video testimonial, but it just works so well here and I'm going with it.

By the way, I'm moving in the following weeks so this story may get neglected even more than it has been.


	6. Home Again

**Author's Note: **Fairly graphic description of self injury (cutting) is included.

* * *

**6. Home Again**

Awkward. That's what all this was. Awkward. Joey and the social worker interrupted _The Price is Right_ with their usual concern and a careful delivery of the fact that today was the day he'd be going home. Craig was confused for a moment and even started to speak. "Not…"

"You're coming to stay with me, remember, buddy?" Joey reminded.

"Oh. Yeah. Right," Craig agreed. It was going to be tough adjusting to thinking of that as home. He'd actually barely remember what Joey's house looked like. The last he'd seen it was after his mother's funeral. Oh wait, that wasn't it. He was just there. He took the pills and went to Joey's. Not like he remembered much from that night. All this was a mess.

"It's normal to have mixed feelings about this, Craig," Robert, the social worker reassured.

"I'm fine with this," Craig said quickly.

Joey smiled at him, "It's going to be great having you around again. Angie's so excited."

Craig's smile was sincere this time. "Man…I get to see her everyday. That's so awesome."

Robert rubbed Craig's shoulder. "Okay, so you'll be out of here by noon."

"We'll get you your favorite take out food on the way home," Joey added.

"I just need Joey to sign a few more forms and then he'll be right back," Robert said as the two men headed for the door. Craig nodded in return and watched them exit, the door closing behind them.

Craig laid down on the bed and forced his eyes to close. It'd be nice if he could sleep. Sleep was a great escape and made things move a lot faster. Last night was the first night he hadn't woken himself up from nightmares. It was just the blissful black of unconsciousness. Craig opened his eyes, suddenly curious about what forms Joey was signing out in the hall. He had a feeling that was code for "let me give you the rundown on that freak you are taking home with you" and there was no forms.

Craig jumped out of bed and began to creep for the door. The linoleum was cold on his feet; they still hadn't given him his damn shoes back. _"…you are less likely to run away if you don't have your shoes,"_ he remembered the doctor saying. He felt the anger flare up inside of him. He hated all this. He opened the door only slightly, hoping to pick up on whatever conversation was happening out in the hall by the nurses station. He couldn't find Joey's voice in the medley of hospital sounds. Every once in awhile he'd pick up on the social worker's voice and then recognized his doctors. "Run risk." "Evaluated by a professional." That was some of the terms he'd heard being thrown around. Craig wasn't sure he could handle all these labels and forced himself to not even consider what Joey might be thinking about him right now. He'd listened hard for the sound of Joey's voice but his tone just didn't carry like the social worker's. Maybe Joey wasn't saying anything, just nodding. He wasn't sure if Joey even wanted to put up with all this, with him. What a huge inconvenience it had to be.

* * *

Out of fear that Joey was getting sick of this whole fiasco, sick of him, Craig stayed polite and quiet. He'd nodded as Joey had led him through the house, opening cupboard doors to point at cups and towels. 

It seemed so strange when Joey had gestured to a closed door. "Your room is in here. Want to take a look?" Joey offered.

Craig shook his head, just wanting this to be over. It might sound strange, but he'd never really thought about living in another house with another person. He remembered being worried during his parents divorce but always could remain composed because he knew he'd always have one of his parents there. But living here with Joey? His step dad, Julia's husband…maybe his dad was right; what was Joey to him. Joey didn't have to do all this. In an effort to seem like more of a help and not a bother, Craig helped Joey around the house. Craig made sure to include himself in preparing dinner, even if his major role seemed to be keeping Angie entertained and out of the way.

"Welcome to the Jeremiah house of pandemonium," Joey had joked while he prepared the tacos.

Craig had smiled nervously. He was worried Joey was trying too hard. And it was odd, but he wasn't used to the mood of Joey's. It kind of made him nervous to be honest. His father's house was so quiet and had so much order to it. Joey's seemed much more casual, if not a little chaotic. He wasn't used to the television blaring in the next room, radio playing in the kitchen while cooking, and Angela's toys littered around every room. Dinner being delayed twenty minutes from when he thought it would be? That would never happen at his dad's. Not to mention the mood during dinner. Angela was her normal bubbly chatterbox self and Joey didn't even flinch at the spilled taco sauce.

"These beans…they taste funny," she'd whined while he tossed paper towels on the mess.

"I made them the same way I always do. Eat 'em up," Joey encouraged.

Craig was surprised that there wasn't harshness in Joey's tone. His father would have taken it as a huge insult if he'd said something like that.

"No, they are too hard," Angie objected.

"Craig likes the beans don't you, Craig?" Joey said with a smile.

Craig smiled a bit nervously, "Yeah. They are good."

* * *

He'd sought refuge in front of the TV after dinner. "Craig's choice," Joey had said with a smile, presenting him the remote and shooting down Angie's persistent suggestion of _The Lion King_. So he'd channel surfed and watched shows he'd never even heard of, long after Angie was put to bed. 

"Aren't you tired?" Joey finally asked, folding up the newspaper and looking over at him.

"Um…I don't know," Craig answered. He wasn't sure he could sleep. He wanted to sleep but wasn't sure it would happen. He'd probably just end up lying there, staring at the ceiling, and god forbid, thinking. He didn't want to think.

"The doctor prescribed some meds for anxiety…if you are having trouble sleeping."

And he most certainly didn't want to talk about that. "Oh. Um, okay," Craig mumbled and got up off the couch. This will be fine, he told himself. He'd been waiting for bed all day. Sleep would put an end to all this weirdness. I just want to sleep, he thought. He'd been thinking that same thought all day.

Craig followed Joey up the stairs, feeling like a guest. He noticed he was still studying the house, taking in where everything was and the tacky decorations on the walls. His stomach ached again. This wasn't his home.

"This is going to be your room," Joey said, trying to break the awkward silence that never really seemed to leave. Craig noticed the plastic bag sitting on the bed. Craig had carried that bag out of the hospital, feeling strange because it was all that was really his in this moment. A few changes of clothes, the cash that was meant for his great escape, and of course his photos.

"How are you doing?" Joey asked, noticing how Craig stood frozen by the doorway.

"I'm fine," Craig answered quickly. "This is just weird, you know?"

"I know. Doesn't feel like your room, I bet. We'll go get your things tomorrow."

Craig looked down at the floor, "Ummm…is he going to be there?" He couldn't even bring himself to say the word 'father' or even call him by his first name.

"No, he won't be. That's all been worked out."

Craig smiled nervously. "What's been worked out?"

"When we are going over to pick up your stuff. We had to make sure he wouldn't be there."

"So…he's not in jail or anything?"

"No, he's not in jail," Joey said and carefully watched Craig's face. He found it kind of strange that Craig seemed relieved.

Craig sat down on the bed and looked around the room.

"I put the TV from my room in here. I don't ever watch TV in there anyway. At the end of the day, I'm out," Joey said and gestured to a TV sitting on the dresser. "I picked up some magazines for you. I know you're into photography and music. I'll go get them."

Joey returned a few minutes later with the magazines. After he handed them over to Craig, he took a pill bottle out of his pocket. Craig tried not to think of his suicide attempt.

Craig was hesitant. He took the pills from his stepfather but kept them in the palm of his hand. "I'm really not in a hurry to be taking more pills," he said with a nervous smile.

"These are just going to relax you. It's not to going to knock you out or anything. Just lie in bed and watch TV for awhile. It will be like falling asleep when you are really tired," Joey assured as he handed his stepson a glass of water.

Craig sighed. He was over this so called attempt at making him more comfortable. He knew they were all just waiting for him to flip out. A part of him wanted to freak out just because he knew that's what they were thinking he'd do. They were waiting. Give them what they wanted. Poor Craig can't handle this. And maybe he couldn't. He knew he was craving some kind of release. All this was too strange.

He raised the tablets up his lips and then paused. "How long will it take to work?"

"In about 15 minutes, maybe a half hour. It happens slowly."

Craig shrugged and took the pills. He tried to ignore the slight gag reflex the sensation of the pills sliding down his throat produced. Something is in my throat, he thought frantically. Just breathe, he tried to tell himself and ignored the physical memory of that tube down his throat in the E.R.

"You doing okay?" Joey asked cautiously.

"Sure," Craig said, a hint of frustration in his voice.

"You're getting tired of that, huh?" Joey said with a smile. "Okay. I'll try to stop. I just want to make sure you are comfortable."

"Yeah…I'm fine," Craig said as he pulled the blankets down and got under them. He propped the pillow up against the headboard. He picked up one of the magazines, and then looked up at Joey, "I'm okay."

"I'll see you in the morning. Sleep in as long as you want. I have to take Angie to school, but then I'll be back."

"Oh. I'm not going to school?"

"I thought we'd put it off for a day. I have to come in with you and talk to the principal since I'm your guardian now." Joey then added, "I thought we'd stop by the school psychologist's office too."

Craig didn't say anything, just flipped through the photography magazine. Just another screwed up event in his screwed up life.

"I know you're not happy with that," Joey tried. He watched Craig for a moment, waiting for a response. "Right now we have to do what child protective services tell us to do. I'm sure later you will be able to decide if you want to continue to see her or not."

Craig didn't want to respond. He wanted Joey to leave and he didn't care if he left hurt. But when he looked up and only saw concern on Joey's face, his anger and resistance melted away. "I know. Maybe it'll be okay," he said with a shrug.

"I'll see you tomorrow then," Joey said and backed out the door.

* * *

Something was wrong, Joey frantically thought as he sat up in bed. As he swung his feet over the side of the bed he glanced at the clock. 3:03 AM. He listened closely; the house was quiet. As he yanked on his robe, he wondered about this intuitive response. He checked on Angela first. She was sound asleep under a mound of her favorite stuffed animals. He used to wake up like this when Julia was in the hospital. There was times when he'd have to walk around the house for a good half hour before he could return to bed. If only he had… 

Joey's thoughts were interrupted when he noticed the soft light spilling out from Craig's room. The door was slightly ajar and he could hear the soft sound of an infomercial playing on the TV. Craig. Was he okay? Joey stared intently at Craig. The TV cast an obscure light around the room and helped him to get a good look over the boy without turning on the light and waking him. Joey's breathe caught in his throat; it looked like Craig's face was pale blue. He'd done it again, Joey thought in a panic. He realized the boy was breathing deep and regular. It was just the glow of the TV, he realized. Craig was fine. Joey pulled the blankets up around his stepson's shoulders and went for the door. He looked back on his stepson once more before clicking off the TV and heading out of Craig's room.

He contemplated gathering all the medication in the house right now. He kept them out of Angela's reach but they were easily accessible for a teenager. He could collect them all in the morning, he figured as he climbed back into bed. He knew it was going to be an insult to Craig; he'd feel like a little kid. But damn it, that teenager had nearly scared him to death. The social worker had tried to prepare him and ease away some of his fears but Joey couldn't help it, he was scared for that kid. Joey knew that he could protect Craig from his father but he wasn't sure he could protect Craig from himself. Another suicide attempt wasn't the only thing on his mind; there was also the self injury. The cutting truly scared the hell out of him. He reflected on the discussion he'd had with the social worker:

"_He'll be fine once he's away from his dad, right?" Joey asked. "The cutting…he'll stop that once he moves in with me, I hope."_

"_I hope so to," Robert stated optimistically. He paused then added, "But don't be shocked if he does it again. It's become a way that he's coped with stress or possibly punished himself for the abuse. When he thinks of the abuse, it may be his first reaction. It's going to take some time for him to unlearn that behavior."_

"_So…" Joey struggled with this information. "Do I have to hide all the knives in the house? How much of a danger is he to himself?"_

_Robert shook his head, "Taking away what he uses to cut won't solve the problem. He'll find a way, cutters usually do. It's better if he doesn't feel ashamed of the problem. If you hide all the sharp objects, he's probably doing to feel ashamed and then will avoid talking about it. It's better if you remain objective. Show concern but don't condemn the cutting. If it gets serious, he's going to need to feel like he can approach you about it."_

_Joey suddenly had visions of Craig slicing his arms with a razor blade and needing repeated trips to the E.R. "This is really frightening. I don't think I can watch him hurt himself. Seriously hurt himself…"_

"_You saw the cuts. He's not cutting deep. He is barely breaking the skin, actually. There is a possibility that he will make a mistake of course, but let's hope that doesn't happen. That's why he has to feel like he can tell you about it."_

"_Is he suicidal?"_

"_I believe this was all a cry for help. Craig knew that he was hurt and needed someone to intervene but couldn't get himself to ask for help. I think he knew he needed it. Overdosing guaranteed him a trip to the hospital."_

_Joey nodded, "That makes sense."_

It had been reassuring at the time, but really, all the coaching and books couldn't fully prepare him for what it was going to be like to raise an abused kid. As he struggled to fall back to sleep, Joey also fought negative thoughts about how he wasn't sure he could ever fully repair Craig. He wondered how long the abuse had gone on. Had Craig dealt with it his whole life? Joey was thankful for the help from the school and the social worker. Hopefully Craig would realize that that they were all trying to help him and that's why they were keeping such a close eye on him now. He was surprised if he'd ever fall back to sleep, what with this worrying about Craig. To add to his worry, the doctor had mentioned having Craig evaluated by a psychiatrist in a month or so, just to rule out any larger issues that might be at hand. Craig's moodiness and desperation might just be a symptom of the abuse. Depression and anxiety are probably issues, the doctor had suggested. Joey felt a burst of anger. How could a parent ever abuse their own child? Did Albert even realize everything he took from that kid? Could Joey ever help Craig get it all back?

* * *

Joey noticed that Craig hesitated before climbing out of the car. He stayed a few paces behind him as they walked up the driveway as well. "It's just us here," Joey reminded as he pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the front door to Albert Manning's house. 

"Yep," Craig agreed with a nod. He tried to ignore that he was shaking some. He wasn't sure why this bothered him. It's just a house. Craig stiffly followed Joey in and hesitated by the door.

"You okay?" Joey asked as he set some cardboard boxes down on the floor.

"Yeah. I think so. Weird being back though," Craig answered softly.

"Want to go up to your room?"

Craig nodded, picked up some of the boxes, and led Joey up the stairs and into his bedroom. It appeared like nothing had changed since he was here last. A part of him expected the whole room to be packed up. He didn't know how his father felt about all this. A part of him expected everything to be sitting on the curb. His father felt like his mother betrayed him and did his best to remove every memory of her from his life; wouldn't he do the same with him?

"Alright," Craig said with a sigh. He opened the closet and removed two suitcases. He and Joey worked silently for awhile, with Craig half heartedly folding some clothes while Joey began to put Craig's CD collection into a box. Then he had to ask. He just had to know.

"So where is my dad right now?"

"Um, I'm not really sure."

"But you said he wasn't in jail!" Craig was quick to say.

"I know he's not in jail, Craig. But he…"

"Were the cops involved?"

"Uh, I'm sure that a police officer accompanied Robert when they were doing all the questioning."

"What are you talking about? Why is there all this going on and I don't know about any of it!"

"It's just what they do in situations like this. They had to talk to your dad just like they had to talk to me…to you."

"Did they take him to the police station? Did he ever spend time in jail for it? Just cause I…" Craig didn't finish. He angrily tossed a sweatshirt into the suitcase.

"This isn't your fault!"

Craig ignored that statement and continued with, "Why would they do all that? I mean, have a cop question him? It sounds like there was this huge deal. Did they look around my house? Investigate like someone was murdered here?"

Craig still couldn't wrap his mind around it. This was all out of control. It was in control before. Well, he was never really in control but hey, at least that was normal. His dad wasn't in control now either. Someone else was deciding what to do with his family. Who was calling the shots around here? How could all this happen? All this talking about what happened. How dare they? He wanted all this to remain quiet.

Joey wasn't sure how to respond. Craig looked confused and bewildered. It was heartbreaking. "I know this is very hard to hear. But I'm sure that your dad doesn't hold it against you."

"What would you know?!" Craig snapped, suddenly feeling sick to his stomach. What did he do? He quickly headed for the bathroom and promptly began to throw up in the toilet. Joey paused in the doorway then stepped out and waited outside in the hall. He waited until he heard the heaves stop. Joey stepped into the bathroom and found Craig sitting beside the toilet, wiping his mouth with a piece of toilet paper.

"I'm sorry you have to go through this," Joey said softly. He began to approach Craig.

"Please…can I just be alone?" Craig said.

"Sure," Joey said and began to back out the door.

"Can you close the door? I just need to be alone for awhile."

Joey hesitated but followed Craig's request. "I'll be right outside," he said as he closed the door.

Craig stood up and went to the sink. He turned the water on and rinsed out his mouth. He lifted his head up and was greeted by his reflection. He stared into his own eyes for several moments, as if he couldn't recognize what he was seeing. He clenched his fist. It bothered him to see his reflection. He didn't like to know who he was, what he had gone through. He was the screwed up loser who was beaten like a dog. The bruises were fading but he still knew what he was. He angrily opened the medicine cabinet. Now that's a flashback, he thought, remembering how he used to sneak the pills. The valium and hydrocodone bottles were gone. That sucks, he thought. He took out an aspirin bottle and opened it. He looked in, being careful so the pills wouldn't rattle. Joey would be in here in a second if he heard that.

There's my hydrocodone, Craig thought. He shrugged and took out the last 3 pills and put them in his pocket. In memory of that night, he thought bitterly, maybe he could have fun with these later. Thanks dad, he thought and wanted to laugh.

His eyes rested on a pack of razorblades. Craig took them out. He slipped one out and quickly brought it to his wrist. He brought it across slowly, careful not to cut too deep. He cringed at the pain, but he kind of enjoyed it. It reminded him he was human. He moved the blade down farther on his wrist and made another cut. He couldn't help but let out a sob.

Craig heard a knock on the door and it was followed by Joey's voice. "Craig? Are you okay?"

"Yeah…I just need to be alone. Please."

Joey put his hand on the doorknob then pulled away. He knew Craig was crying in there and he decided it was best to give him his privacy.

Okay, Craig thought, just one more. His mind was racing and the tears flowing. He was always hesitant to cut, but then he couldn't stop. Now he was building up courage. He brought the blade down harder now. He stopped before he reached the main vein in his wrist. He was pleased to see how quickly the blood began to flow. It excited him that it was flowing more than the last, maybe even more than it ever had.

"Alright Craig, we should get started packing up your stuff," he heard Joey say from behind the door.

"Okay, just a minute," Craig said, a bit frantically. He began to look for bandages.

"Fuck," he whispered, looking around. A drop of blood dripped into the sink. He found a box of large bandages in the back of the cabinet. He quickly pulled one out and put it on his wrist. He grabbed a few more out of the box and pocketed them. He looked down at the sink and saw the blood.

"Craig," Joey said, "I'm a little bit worried about you. Kiddo, can I come in?"

"Just hold on," Craig pleaded, as he turned on the water. He shut the cabinet and pocketed the razorblades. He turned off the water and grabbed a tissue. He quickly wiped his face and gave a good yank on his long sleeve shirt to ensure that the bandage was covered. Then he went for the door and opened it.

Joey noticed Craig's red eyes, "Hey…this has really got to be horrible for you."

"I think I'm ok now," Craig replied and went for his room, "Let's just get this over with."

Craig threw the remainder of the clothes from the closet on the bed. He then went to the dresser, removed his clothing from there, and threw them on the bed. He began to kick around the clothes on the floor so they were in a pile. He had to keep moving, just keep doing. Anything to not think about this. He didn't have to think about this.

"Hey, settle down. We have a couple hours."

Craig sighed, "Okay."

"Here, I'll start folding up your clothes and putting them in the suitcases," Joey offered, "Want to pack up your books and CDs?"

Craig nodded and grabbed a cardboard box. He began to pack up his books and CDs, laying his CD player on top of them. He put a few framed photos and things from his childhood in as well.

"I'm going to run downstairs to my darkroom and grab some stuff," Craig said, "I'll be right back up to finish packing."

"Sure," Joey answered, "Yell if you need help with anything."

Craig went downstairs to the darkroom. He was surprised that his dad had cleaned it up since their fight down here. He looked around, grabbed some photo supplies that he thought he could use at the school's darkroom and threw them in a box. A few rolls of film and his camera followed. He figured that maybe it was just the lens that was broken and maybe he could do something with it. He looked around for his photo portfolios.

Craig flipped through a portfolio of photographs he had taken that summer. He set the portfolio in a box and picked up the next one. He watched as piece of paper fluttered down to the floor. Craig stared down at an envelope on the floor with his name on it. He picked it up and stared at it for a moment, then tore it open. He noticed his hands were shaking. He looked at the date, dated the day after his suicide attempt. Craig's heart began to pound. He flipped through the pages, about a 4 page letter.

Craig went over to the door and looked out, no sign of Joey. He was still up in his room. Craig sat on the edge of the darkroom sink. He read the first line and stopped. He wasn't sure he could read this. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know. The first paragraph helped ease him into it. His father was heartbroken to hear that he had attempted suicide. So he did care.

Craig was in a hurry to absorb everything the letter said. Any sort of kind of an answer. There were lots of options. His dad was stressed out from work. And he was going to work less, he'd promised, his family was more important. Craig felt angry at that statement, right, his father's family was more important. That's why he had so many fond memories of belt beatings and slaps across his face. Not buying that family was important to that man. No nomination for father of the year for that man.

Or there was Albert suggesting that he was trying to curb his anger and stress with the prescription pills and that was no good solution. It was an addiction that made him hurt his son. It was stress, bad coping skills, and it was how he was raised as well. Had he known that Craig was so troubled and fragile, he'd have done things differently than how he was raised. He would have been more patient, more delicate. He'd do it for Craig. Reading this letter put him on an emotional roller coaster. He wanted to embrace the idea that his dad wasn't himself when he was hurting him because of an addiction. The addiction made him a monster. Or he did it because that's how his father treated him. That made him feel relieved. Then his blood boiled at the thought that his father was somehow implying that he could handle it and Craig couldn't. That he was weaker than his father. Then he began to wonder if he really was the crazy one.

Craig tried to look away from the fact that there was no real apology. And he ached over that. Just a simple "I'm sorry" instead of all these explanations that were beginning to sound like rationalizations.

His father reassured him that he would take care of all this. Craig didn't have to worry about a thing. Craig would be home in no time and no one had to know about this. No one had to know about his suicide attempt; everyone makes mistakes. Every part of that made him feel a little sick to his stomach.

Craig was too engrossed to notice when Joey entered the room.

"Hey," Joey said, "You almost done?"

Craig didn't even hear him.

"Craig?" Joey approached him, "What are you reading?"

Joey put his hand on Craig's knee, "Hey."

Craig was so startled he nearly jumped off the table. He quickly folded the letter in half, the paper made a crunching noise as he did so. He didn't want Joey to see any of the writing. He put a hand over his heart and smiled, "You scared me to death."

Joey looked at Craig with concern, "What's going on? What are you reading?"

He was still caught up in the shock of reading the letter. He struggled to think of a lie, "It's nothing. Nothing interesting."

"Looked like you were very interested," Joey said and was going to shrug it off, and then he noticed an envelope lying on the table next to Craig. He noticed the envelope was stamped with Albert Manning's address.

"Your dad wrote to you?" Joey asked as he picked up the envelope.

"Yeah. It's nothing."

"When did he write it?"

Craig looked down at the floor.

Joey touched Craig's arm, "He's not supposed to have any contact with you. That includes writing letters too. Give me the letter, Craig."

Craig jerked away, "It's my letter. It's to me."

"I know. That's why you can't have it. I'll have to turn it over to Child Protective Services or the police…he's not supposed to have any contact with you," Joey repeated.

Craig thought about ripping it up. But it was way too important to him. If there was any answer to all this, it was in the letter. Even if there wasn't, the first paragraph meant too much to him.

"Please, Joey," he pleaded softly.

"I'm sorry," Joey said sympathetically, but his tone remained firm, "Give me the letter."

"If you read it and see that it's okay, can I have it back?"

"I don't know…I don't think so. I'll have to ask Robert. Give me the letter, I'll hang onto it, and call him when we get home."

"So just read it and see that it's okay. You don't have to talk to Robert about it."

"I'm sorry Craig."

Craig was silent for a moment, "It was just nice to get an apology and sort of an explanation you know? I almost have read all of it. Can I just read the last page? Then I'll give it to you. I just…I need this, please."

Joey was hesitant. "I guess that would be okay. I'll just…" He sighed. "Act like I found it after you read it."

"Thank you so much," Craig said and quickly opened the letter. He read the last few paragraphs slow. It sounded like the police or whoever was involved in this case were going to help him, not just lock him up. Craig didn't think his dad needed to be in jail. Maybe he just needs help to deal with what he went through as a child, with the anger problems, and the chemical dependency. He reread the last few sentences several times. They spoke of how much his father did love him. It was unfortunate that the declaration came with the blow that Craig was just like his mother and left him just like she had. That hurt because he knew that being like his mother was probably the biggest insult Albert could dish out. But he'd take it because he still got the "You're my son and I love you."

"So maybe he's just a mess and needs help right?" Craig finally said.

"I think so. That might take awhile though, Craig. You need help for what you went through and he's going to need a lot more."

Craig suddenly felt exhausted from all this. He managed to nod in agreement, and declared "Let's finish up here and go home."


	7. The Welcome Wagon of Degrassi School

**7. The Welcome Wagon of Degrassi School  
**

Joey glanced into Craig's bedroom as he walked by. Craig was still lying on his bed and reading a magazine but at least he was a box closer to being finished unpacking. It was an improvement from this afternoon. Joey had offered to help but Craig had managed to muster a smile and reassured that he could handle it. Now it was the early evening and Craig had made little progress. This can't be easy for him, Joey figured. Maybe this was just reaffirming the fact that this was a semi-permanent situation. Joey figured he could tackle Craig's issue later, right now he had another kid to deal with.

"Tonight is bath night," Joey reminded Angie as he entered her room and set a laundry basket of clean clothing down on the floor.

Angie barely glanced up from her coloring book. "How about in the morning?"

"How about tonight?" Joey said as he opened a dresser drawer.

"How about tomorrow night?" Angie tried.

Joey glanced up at the sound of movement in the hall and saw Craig's tall figure pass by. He felt the urge to follow but continued to tuck away Angie's clothing into the dresser. He wondered how obvious it was that he was being very observant of his stepson; every once in awhile he'd pick up on Craig's annoyance. Joey glanced back at Angie.

"Fifteen minutes," he declared as he picked up the empty laundry basket and headed out into the hall. He paused in front of the bathroom. The door was open and there was Craig, looking through the medicine cabinet. Joey really had hoped they could save this for another day.

Craig rubbed his temples before opening a drawer he had just opened a moment ago. He glanced over its contents looking for aspirin, Tylenol, anything. His head throbbed. He found it a bit odd that Joey didn't have any over the counter painkillers. Craig returned his gaze to the open medicine cabinet and realized there weren't any pill bottles at all. Odd. He moved a shampoo bottle out of the way.

"Hey. What's up?" Joey asked, trying to ignore the worry he felt in his gut.

Craig froze, startled. His hand hit a bottle of cough syrup and it fell into the sink. He smiled nervously, "I just have a headache." He put the bottle back in the cabinet, "You don't have any aspirin or anything?"

Joey looked at the floor.

Craig closed the cabinet door and looked at Joey, "What?" he asked, becoming suspicious. "You're…acting kind of weird."

"Maybe I'm overreacting," Joey said and looked Craig in the eyes, "But I think it would be better if I kept the medicine from you."

Craig looked away. "I told you that night was a mistake. I'm not going to do that again."

"I want to believe you, I really do. But I would feel better if I kept all medication from you for the next few months."

Craig shook his head. He had enough of this for one day. He couldn't keep his emotions in check anymore. Who cared if Joey sent him away tonight? At least his bags were still packed. Craig flung open the medicine cabinet. "What about the cough syrup? Mouthwash?" he said as he set the bottles on the bathroom counter. "You don't think I could drink these? Better take those too."

"I'm sorry," Joey tried. "This isn't a permanent thing."

"What about cleaning supplies? Toilet bowl cleaner?" Craig snarled. "If I go down into the laundry room, is the liquid detergent and bleach going to be there? You don't think that I'd drink that? Since I have no self control, you know."

"Craig, don't act that way," Joey warned. "I'm sorry. It's just how it has to be for awhile."

Craig glanced into the medicine cabinet again and pulled out a package of disposable razors. He threw them down into the sink. "Look at that," he muttered and reached for a packet of razorblades. He set them on the bathroom counter, "Oh look you left the razorblades. But I guess you don't care about that cause you know I went across the street and not down the block, if you catch my drift."

Joey could only shake his head in disbelief. Why was Craig saying these things?

"I know you know all about. Everyone is always talking about poor Craig and all his problems, everything that's wrong with him," Craig continued. He'd stared boldly at Joey once he was finished and waited for Joey to respond. Craig shifted his eyes to the floor after a few moments of uncomfortable silence. He went too far. He wasn't even sure why he went as far as he did.

"I'll get you some aspirin if you have a headache. All you have to do is ask. If you get sick, I'll get you medicine," Joey said coolly. "I'll get you some right now. All you have to do is ask."

Craig flinched at Joey's tone. He put the bottles back in the cabinet and glanced around anxiously. "Joey…I didn't mean that…you know."

"Its fine, Craig," Joey said and briefly touched Craig's shoulder. "I'll be right back."

Craig barely moved a muscle while he waited. He stared down at the bath rug under him and listened to the sounds in the next room; Angie in her room humming softly and Joey in his, opening drawers or a closet door. Craig clenched his fist and then released it when Joey entered the room with a bottle of aspirin. Craig shifted his eyes between watching his stepfather unscrew the top and the fish pattern on the shower curtain. Then he saw Joey extending his hand out, two tablets in his palm. Craig didn't move.

"We went through all that and you don't want it?" Joey questioned with a hint of frustration in his voice.

"I still have a headache. But this is just weird and I don't want to deal with it whenever I have a headache."

"Well, I'm sorry, but I don't want to sit at work and worry about you taking any medication while I'm not here."

"But you don't have to worry."

"Craig, listen to me," Joey said and put a hand on his stepson's shoulder. "I'm glad that you aren't thinking about hurting yourself or what happened the night you took the pills. But unfortunately I'm still thinking about it. It scared me. I woke up last night in a panic because I was afraid for you. I'm doing this because I care. I'm just scared, that's all."

What was Craig supposed to say to that? None of this was supposed to be this way. He never meant to scare anyone. Hell, he wasn't even sure what that night was supposed to bring. He knew he didn't want to die. Why didn't people believe him when he said that? Craig sighed. He wanted to forget all that. Forget his suicide attempt, forget his father. For a moment he thought that he might start to break down but ordered himself not to. He was just tired, that was all.

Joey felt a stab of guilt and sympathy as he watched Craig look around the bathroom, avoiding his gaze. He made this kid feel even more uncomfortable here. "It's okay," he said and rubbed Craig's arm reassuringly. "I know you are having a hard time too."

"I'm just tired."

"You've had a long day."

"You're not angry with me?"

"I'm not angry. I wasn't ever angry. The things you were saying about suicide…they got to me."

"I know I shouldn't have said that stuff."

"Okay. It's all good then," Joey rubbed Craig's arm. "You still have that headache?

"An even bigger one," Craig said with a small smile.

* * *

Craig tried to ignore the glances of the other students. He felt even more awkward with Joey at his side in the school hallway. He wished that he would've suggested that they arrive after the first bell. Or he could have purposely overslept so they had been late. He couldn't shake the feeling that the other kids were glancing at him as he passed through the hall. Craig caught the sight of Ashley sitting alone in front of some lockers. She gave him a small smile and mouthed the word "Hi." Craig looked down at the floor. He had only made a few friends since starting the new school and for several moments, he dwelled on his horrible first impression. He glanced up as Joey opened the door to the main office and gestured inside. Craig couldn't help but sigh as he entered. He hung a few steps back as Joey spoke to the receptionist. 

He looked around the room and recalled his last visit to the principal. He was caught arriving late to school and sent to the principal's office. Stop, his brain screamed as he remembered why he was late.

"Good morning, Craig," Mr. Raditch greeted, breaking Craig out of his thoughts.

"We'll just talk for a little bit, okay?" Joey said and placed a hand on Craig's shoulder. He steered the boy into the office.

Stop thinking about that day, Craig ordered himself as he sat down comfortably in the chair. That was the problem. It stirred up the memory of how awkward it was to sit and how the pain caused him to develop odd techniques to avoid the sting.

"It's good to have you back," the principal said.

"I missed so much school," Craig blurted out.

"It's okay. It's all excused."

"But before that. All the times I was tardy."

"It's excused, Craig. Think of today as a fresh start."

"But the work…"

"Your teachers are more than willing to help you get caught up."

"Do they know?" Craig looked over at Joey.

"I've informed them that your absences were a result of family problems and are excused," Mr. Raditch stated.

"Oh," Craig mumbled and managed to get himself to nod. This was screwed up. He could just imagine the talk in the teacher's lounge. Did Mr. Simpson say anything to them? Craig started to chew nervously on a fingernail as he watched Raditch hand over some forms to Joey. Their voices sounded a bit drowned out to him the more he thought. Would his teachers ask him where he was? Would they want to know more? He didn't think he could handle a simple "How are you?" much less more detailed questions they would ask because they were concerned. No, they'd leave him alone, Craig told himself. They were probably told not to ask. Because he was crazy Craig and it might push him over the edge.

Craig glanced up as he heard the first bell ring. He looked over at Raditch, then at Joey. Joey gave him a reassuring smile as he continued to recite his address to Raditch. Too bad he couldn't go to a new school, Craig thought.

"Craig? Let's go meet the school psychologist. Then I swear you will be rid of me. I know it's never fun to have the parent with you in school," Joey said with a smile.

Craig glanced over at his principal; this was obviously not new information to him. Oh yeah, they talked all about this stuff, Craig angrily thought as he stood up. His social worker probably talked to the psychologist or the principal and they talked to each other and then to the teachers.

"Have a good day," he heard Raditch call out.

"Thank you," he managed to mumble as he trudged along next to Joey. At least the hallway was empty now.

"Joey, I'm really not sure about any of this," Craig confessed.

"I know the first day back is hard," Joey tried to soothe.

"Did you see how everyone was looking at me?" Craig said in a hushed tone.

"That was because you were walking with some old bald guy that doesn't work here," Joey said with a smile. That didn't work, Craig still looked tense. "You'll get to see your friends."

"I just started here. I don't have any friends, really. One guy, Sean, and he's not even in any of my classes. The only other person I hung out with outside of school was Ashley…I can't talk to her."

"Just take it easy, Craig. I'm sure that you'll make friends. I know it might seem awkward, but I don't think that people are talking about you as much as you think. Like you said, you're new. They don't know you. So they won't talk about you," Joey offered.

Craig glanced at the Media Immersion classroom as they passed by. Shit, he hadn't even thought of that. He really didn't want to see Mr. Simpson again. Not after that night at Joey's. If Joey didn't tell him, Simpson surely must've put the pieces together and realized how he was being treated by his father. And the overdose; talk about degrading. Every once in awhile Craig would recall the details; right now he could remember puking, Joey and Simpson were holding him up and keeping him from falling into his own vomit.

"I wish this day was over with," Craig sighed as he stood with Joey outside the psychologist's office.

"We're just going to see what she's like, remember? Nothing intense," Joey said as he knocked on the door.

Craig shifted nervously as the door opened. The young woman's smile didn't make him feel any better. He mumbled a greeting in response to hers. He knew that it might be introductions now, but she had to want to get into his head. Otherwise he wouldn't be here. Craig felt Joey's hand on his back, encouraging him into the office. Craig made sure to take the chair the furthest from the Ms. Sauvé's desk.

"It's great to have you back at Degrassi, Craig," she said as she sat down.

Craig nodded and searched for something to say, "It's kind of weird being back."

Craig glanced over at Joey. This was his bright idea so let him do the talking, Craig decided. Joey gave a small smile to Craig and waited for him to say more. Oh that would be too easy, he thought to himself as the silence stretched on. He couldn't take it anymore and launched into a story of his days in high school. Craig took this as an opportunity to zone out. He studied the plants and the framed degrees on the wall.

"I'd like to meet with you three times a week," Craig heard Ms. Sauvé say. He snapped back into reality.

"What?" Craig asked and glanced at Sauvé, Joey, then back at Sauvé. Story time with Joey Jeremiah was over?

"I'd like to take this opportunity to set up a schedule of when we can meet. Your social worker and I feel it would be best for you to meet with me three times a week for the time being."

"I don't know what I'm supposed to talk about that would ever require me to be here three times a week," Craig tried.

"You've had a lot of changes in your life recently. I'm just here to help you adjust."

"Once a week would be fine. I can do that."

"You've made an attempt at your life. For the time being, I need to be checking in with you more often."

Craig dropped his eyes to the floor. He was wondering if that was going to come up. This was going to be a sore subject for awhile, he just knew it. He also knew he wasn't going to win this battle. "Can I at least get out of math class?"

"You can get out of babysitting duty if you meet after school," Joey suggested.

"Three times a week? After school?" Craig was in shock.

"We can meet one day during your study hall time. The rest will have to be after school meetings."

Craig sighed; oh this was getting better and better. He nodded in silent agreement. Craig glanced at the clock. He could either sit here or walk into the middle of Kwan's English class. "I should go to class," Craig decided.

As Ms. Sauvé scribbled on a pass, she reconfirmed her sessions with Craig, "Mondays and Wednesdays right after school. Fridays during your study hall."

"Then you'll have Friday afternoon off," Joey said optimistically. He wasn't surprised when Craig didn't smile in return.

"So I'll see you tomorrow," Ms. Sauvé said as she handed Craig the pass.

"Okay. Tomorrow," Craig said sullenly as he stood up. He looked at Joey, "You are going to work now, right?"

"Uh, right," Joey agreed quickly. "I'll walk you to your locker and then take off."

Craig nodded and was content with Joey following him out of the room and down the school hallway towards his locker. Then he knew he wasn't left alone in the school psychologist's office to discuss poor Craig.

"I know that it's not going to be like this for the whole school year," Joey said, breaking the silence.

"It better not be. Joey, I don't have anything to say to her. I don't know her," Craig said as they approached his locker. He sighed and began to twist and pull at his locker combination lock.

"I'm sure it'll be fine. She seems nice."

"She seems smart."

"You say that like it's a bad thing. I think in her field, it's a good thing."

Craig sighed again as he shoved his backpack into his locker. "I just mean, that will make it even more weird."

"It might be weird at first but then I think you will get to know each other."

"Whatever," Craig mumbled as he pulled out the novel his English class was assigned to read. The novel he was way behind on. Another thing to worry about. It was strange, he hadn't even thought about school until now. Before he thought about the hospital and visits with the social worker. Then it was how weird Joey's house was and how empty his dad's was. Now it's school with concerned teachers and awkwardness with students.

Craig closed his locker and turned to face Joey. "Um, thanks for getting all this straightened out," Craig felt like he had to say. He felt like he had to say something, especially with his freak out last night and Joey going out of his way to get him settled in around here. Craig got a warm smile in return and that almost calmed his nerves some.

"No problem. Nothing like visiting your old high school," Joey said and pretended to shudder. "Trust me, today was way worse for me than it was for you."

"Right. You don't have to stay here."

"Nope, I get to go to work. Lucky me. Give me a call when you get home, okay?"

Craig nodded in agreement and waved. "I'll do that," he said and watched Joey turn the corner and disappear out of sight. "English class," he sighed and slowly began to walk down the hall.

He was certain that he stopped breathing as he entered the room. Kwan stopped her lecture to glance at him and his classmates gazes followed. He could hear their chairs scrap on the floor and squeak as they turned to watch him. "Sorry," he mumbled and handed his teacher his pass. He was surprised that her expression seemed soft and warmer as she accepted. So they were expecting him back. He sank into his desk, which was unfortunately in the middle of the room. He wished it was closer to the door.

* * *

Craig surfed the internet without a specific intention. He was enjoying the empty computer lab. He glanced at the clock; 10 minutes till his lunch break ended. He thought about cutting class and just going off somewhere to be alone. But he figured that would cause more trouble than it was worth; a search and rescue party would probably be sent out. He figured that a strange troubled student memo was sent out to all his teachers and once one realized he wasn't in class, Joey would be called. Definitely more trouble than it was worth. 

"Hey Craig."

Craig froze. That was Simpson's voice. He was sure that his eyes were bugging out as he stared at the computer screen.

"Hi," Craig responded and half laughed at the awkward situation. He looked back at the computer screen and clicked on a random link to a music site. He tried to pretend like he was deeply involved in something. Craig ended up rereading the same sentence at least three times, and each time made less sense than the next. His thoughts kept going back to the night of his suicide attempt and he couldn't concentrate. Simpson's class was one that he really wasn't looking forward to. But at least in a classroom full of students, he wouldn't have to talk to him.

"How are you doing?" Simpson asked.

He couldn't stand it anymore, "I'm fine. Everything is fine. If I have to answer that question one more time, I'm going to freak out. I can't find a single moment alone to myself. Did you get some memo from the school psychologist that told you to keep tabs on me or something? Be on the look out for Craig's next freak out, right? Can't leave Craig alone, now can we?"

Simpson was taken back, "Alright, I can understand how that question would get annoying. But I'd say that to anyone that was sitting in here. I figured it would be awkward for you to see me, but come on, Craig… you are in the classroom that I teach in and class is going to begin in 10 minutes."

Craig sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I know. But it's the only place I could find that was empty. I'm this close to hiding out in the boiler room."

"Ok. I'll leave to whatever you are doing. You should probably get going soon to your next class."

Craig picked up his bag and a book that was lying on the table. "I just freaked out on you now didn't I?"

"A little bit, yeah."

"I'm sorry. It's just…" Craig looked off towards the hallway that was full of students, "Nothing is normal. For the past week, nothing has been normal."

"I'm sure things will start feeling more normal soon. How's it at Joey's?"

"Weird. I swear, sometimes he looks at me like he's just waiting for me to…" Craig couldn't finish. The look on Simpson's face was beginning to bother him. There was that look of sympathy again. "I just need to be alone for awhile. Away from all this. Everyone…they just seem too concerned."

"We're concerned because we care about you. We aren't doing this to torture you. It's your first day back so it's going to feel a little strange right?"

Simpson watched as Craig looked unconvinced. "I just want out of here," Craig couldn't help but mumble.

"Hey…don't go run off somewhere and not tell anyone where you are at," Simpson said in a soft but firm tone, "That's inviting trouble, I can tell you that right now. A lot more trouble than you'd expect."

"I know, probably a search party. And Joey would freak," Craig said and headed for the door.

"More than that. I'd say more along the lines of going back to the hospital."

"That's stupid," Craig muttered as he stopped walking. He slowly turned around.

"Maybe, but considering everything, I think that people are going to take what you do pretty serious. Some might be concerned that you were trying to run away."

"I'm not going to do that," Craig tried to explain.

"I believe you. Hey, look, it's going to get better," Simpson assured. "Take it easy okay? Just stay here and keep it simple."

"I am. No worries."

"Okay, I'll see you later."

Craig smiled charmingly at his teacher, "Well, what if you knew where I was at for the afternoon?"

Simpson smiled and shook his head, "I don't think that would work too well."

"What about your class? No other teachers would be involved. No one would have to know. I'd just go for a walk or something. I'd be back for my next class, I swear."

"No, I can't do that. It was a good try though."

Craig shrugged, "I had to try. See you later then."

* * *

"Well, well, look who it is," Sean greeted as he approached Craig as his locker. "That's the trouble with school, they are always making you come back." 

Craig's breath caught in his throat. "What?" he asked and smiled nervously.

Sean shrugged. "Haven't seen you around."

"Oh yeah…" Craig glanced around the hall, in an effort to avoid making eye contact. He returned his gaze to his open locker and began to pull out books.

"Feel like hanging out?"

"Ummm…I don't know. I have a ton of homework," Craig replied.

Sean glanced over the science textbook Craig was shoving into his backpack. "I could probably hook you up with some notes. Save you a little time," he suggested. "Quiz answers come at an extra price."

Craig smirked, "You aren't even in my class."

* * *

"Well, you are going to need those notes," Sean replied as he tossed the game remote control onto the coffee table. 

"So the offer still stands then," Craig said with a smile as he stood up and began to flip on the lights. They'd been playing video games since the moment they arrived at Joey's and the sun was beginning to set. As Craig turned on a lamp, he glanced out the window into the street to see if he'd see Joey pulling into the driveway. He felt his stomach begin to ache some; Joey had said he'd be home around five, six at the latest. He'd called him once he got home, like Joey had requested. Craig realized that he forgot to mention Sean was over. Deep down, he wasn't sure if that was deliberate or not. He had to sneak around like this all the time when he was at his father's; his father needed order, he need to have things planned a week in advance. Craig's palms were beginning to sweat. What was Joey's reaction going to be?

Sean glanced over at Craig in between flipping through television channels. Craig's mood seemed to have shifted. He thought about the last time they'd hung out; they were at Craig's father's house and that mood swing was triggered by the arrival of his father. Sean looked down at the floor, unsure of whether to ask if Craig was okay.

The recent changes in Craig's life were just sort of being silently acknowledged by both boys. Sean didn't feel like he had the place to question why they were hanging out at Craig's stepfather's house now. He'd had ideas, of course. Craig had been a big topic in hushed discussions before and after the school bell rang. It struck him as really bizarre…what did any of them know and how did they know? Emma had even given up the silent treatment to mention him_. "You guys are friends right? Is he okay? I heard Joey and Snake talking and…" Sean interrupted with "The guy has just missed a few days of school, what's with everyone?" _

Sean figured that if Craig wanted to explain or talk about what went down that week, he would. In the meantime, he supposed that he would just ignore the white bandage he'd seen wrapped around Craig's left wrist. That made him a little nervous, but the guy had to be okay now. He wasn't in the hospital locked in some psychiatric ward like some people thought. He was at Joey's now. No need to ask, arrangements like these were made all the time. He should know, what with living with his older brother because his parents were a pair of drunks.

Craig sank down on the couch next to Sean. "Are you going to pick something or what?"

"It's your house," Sean said and tossed the remote over.

"My house…yeah," Craig mumbled. He tried to focus on the television but couldn't; every time car lights would flash through the windows he had to glance over to see if they would pass. He couldn't help but grow tense once he saw car headlights flood the room, disappear, and then heard the slamming of car doors. How was he going to explain this?

"Craig! Pizza!" Angie declared as she flung open the door and bounced in.

Craig shot up and stood to face the door.

"Craig?" Sean questioned, noticing how tense the guy seemed. "Should I go? So you guys can eat or whatever?"

"Yeah. Yeah. Maybe you should. I mean…" Craig trailed off and ran a hand through his hair. He swallowed hard when he laid eyes on Joey.

"Hey there," Joey greeted, pizza box in hand. "I've got half pepperoni and half pepperoni and pineapple. Angie…"

"It'll be good! It's yellow!" Angie explained.

Craig couldn't even speak. What was going on? He noticed all eyes were on him now. "Um, this is Sean," Craig quickly stated and gestured to the boy sitting on the couch. "I'm sorry I didn't mention it when I called or yesterday but I didn't know and I'll let you know the next time and I'm sorry I didn't get Angie from school. I'm just not used to all this," Craig rambled.

"Hey, pineapple on pizza, not my thing," Sean quickly added. "I'll head home."

"You can stay for dinner, Sean," Joey offered. He watched as Craig's cheeks began to flush from embarrassment. The kid was going through something. What was he supposed to do? "Craig, hey, I've got some groceries in the car. Can you give me a hand?"

"Sure. Sure," Craig said. He looked over at Sean, wanting to somehow dismiss his weird reaction to Joey. He couldn't think of a thing to say.

"Thanks, Mr. Jeremiah. Hey, maybe the pineapple will be good, cause it's yellow," Sean said with a smile and glanced over at Angie.

"Eh, we'll just pick it off," Joey said to Craig once they were out of the door. "Over the years, I've learned to pick my battles. Pineapple on pizza, not a big thing."

"Yeah. Not a big thing," Craig mumbled as he opened the car door and began to reach for grocery sacks.

"Hey, are you okay?" Joey asked and touched Craig's shoulder.

"Oh, I'm fine. I'm fine. I just didn't know…like the rules. On having friends over and if I should watch Angie everyday and make dinner and…I'm sorry." Craig had to look away from the sympathetic look Joey was shooting him.

"You didn't do anything wrong, Craig," Joey had to say. "You called me once you got home, like I asked you to. You can have a friend over after school. That's fine."

"Okay," Craig said softly and felt his heart rate begin to slow a little bit. "Just tell me if I'm doing something wrong, okay?"

Joey smiled at Craig as he wondered how in the world he was ever going to get this kid to trust him. Did he really think that he was going to be angry because he had a friend over? "Hey, don't worry about it. All this is just going to take some getting used to."


	8. A Walk in the Park

**8. A Walk in the Park  
**

"Hey Craig."

Craig turned around and saw Ashley pick up her stride to catch up with him in the school hallway. His breath caught in his throat; he hadn't spoken to her since she invited him over for dinner weeks ago. He thought for sure that she'd decided he wasn't worth her time. And he felt that was true, to an extent. Hadn't she heard about him? He knew there was talk about him at school. How could there not be? His dad smacked him around and he attempted suicide - all great drama to talk about. She wouldn't talk about me like that, Craig thought, but what had she heard?

"What's up?" Ashley asked with her trademark smile.

Her smile was always quick, sincere, and a bit insecure. Craig found it adorable. He couldn't help but always watch her mouth, eager to see what she'd say next or if he could get her to smile. She was beautiful, no matter what kind of clothes she was wearing or if her hair was a mess. He quickly pushed down any feelings he had for her. He had to or he'd never find the words to speak.

"Hey," he finally answered. "I don't know…nothings up. I was just going to go pick up Angie from daycare. Maybe go to the park with her for awhile or something."

"Oh…well…uh…I'll let you go then," Ashley answered and began to turn away. She had noticed when he had smiled at her as she stood up to read her story aloud in English class today. Her eyes went straight for him once she read the last line and she'd seen him grin again. She interpreted it as a sign that he was approachable, still wanted to be friends. Maybe making the first move was a mistake. She bit her lip. After the falling out with her oldest friends, she was weary.

"Well, what are you doing now? We could walk a ways together or something…if it's on your way," Craig decided on saying. He hoisted his backpack up over his shoulders. He moaned at the weight of it, "I'm never going to get caught up."

Ashley remained at his side as they walked through the hall. "I could help you out during study hall if you wanted," Ashley offered.

Craig hoped that she didn't notice him blush. He couldn't help but feel embarrassed at the fact that she knew he missed out on study hall today to go to his counseling session with Sauvé. At least that wasn't where he was headed now. It was Friday and he got Friday afternoons off. He was spending Friday with Ashley. He felt his heart speed up a bit.

Craig and Ashley walked out the front doors of Degrassi together, backpacks over their shoulders. They walked close together, so close that it was obvious that they were leaving together and not just happening to be exiting the school at the same time. A large group of students spilled out onto the steps and Craig backed up against the railing. Ashley stepped back so that she was pressed up against him, slightly. Craig hoped that his pounding heart was only obvious to him.

The crowd filtered out and Ashley stepped away. She looked back at him with a smile. He smiled back and took his place beside her. He glanced away from her for a moment to look at the other students. He couldn't help but feel like they were looking at him. Ashley followed his gaze and picked up on her friend's insecurity.

They continued past and Ashley felt she had to break the tension.

"They're probably talking about me," she said softly. "I didn't exactly start this year out good. Didn't exactly end last year that great either."

"Well then, we are a good pair. I'm sure everyone's talking about me," Craig responded.

"No, Craig," Ashley quickly said. She watched him look away. She always felt like she said the wrong thing. She either said too much or too little. "Well…actually I'm just going to be honest. Yeah, they are talking. But it's not…uh…_bad._ You know? It's more like…"

The conversation stopped with their walking pace as they waited for the crosswalk sign to change to green.

"Poor Craig kind of talk?" Craig answered for her.

Ashley flashed him an insecure smile. "Something like that. But, you know, it's not quite as malicious as…how they are talking about what a freak I am."

Craig wasn't sure how to reply to that. He'd heard the rude off hand remarks but most of it made no sense to him. He knew there was some falling out with her friends and he debated on asking about that. He couldn't help but begin to worry about gossip she had heard about him. He had to ask. "What have you heard?"

"Oh man, Craig…" Ashley trailed off. "I don't know if that's important. It's just…talk."

"Please tell me what people are saying. I know I shouldn't care. And I wouldn't if it was anything else but this."

Craig watched as Ashley's eyes darted around the neighborhood. "Don't you have to go get Angie?"

Craig smiled. "Don't try to distract me from this. I won't freak out if it's really bad, I promise…and I made that up about Angie. I don't have to get her today. She's at daycare until Joey gets off from work at 5."

"Oh," Ashley said with a puzzled look.

"I just needed a way to get away if things got weird."

"Is it weird?"

"No," Craig confessed.

"It's not weird for me either," Ashley said softly.

Craig glanced up at the street and watched as a woman hurried across the walk. The sign flicked back to red. "Uhhh…it's not green anymore," Craig said with a small laugh.

"Oh…" Ashley looked up and glanced around, "I wasn't even…thinking about it."

"No, me either."

"Do you want to hang out for awhile today? Go to the park or something? It's gorgeous out."

"Okay…yeah… that'd be great. I have to call Joey and tell him though."

* * *

Craig stood in the phone booth, finishing up a conversation with his step dad. Joey sounded pleased that Craig was hanging out with a friend. There was a hint of satisfaction in his voice when he told Joey that he was with Ashley. 

"Thank you for calling me, Craig," Joey said.

"Yep. I'll be home around 6."

"Well…if you are going to be at Ashley's house or something…just call," Joey said.

Craig detected that weird delighted tone in Joey's voice again. "Um...yeah. Okay. See you later," Craig said. As he hung up the phone, Ashley came out of the store carrying a plastic bag.

Craig stepped out, "Joey's been kind of weird lately. He freaks out if he doesn't know where I am…" Craig explained, "…but uh...it's all good. What's in the bag?"

"Ice cream," Ashley said as she removed the container from the bag.

"You can buy it at the park," Craig said and then laughed. "But not a whole pint. A whole pint? You're going to eat all that?"

She produced another container, this one cookies and cream. "I got you one too."

"Um...okay. Thanks."

"I had a bad day," she explained as they headed across the street and into the park. "When I have a bad day, I like to eat ice cream. It's like…my comfort food."

They sat down under a tree, shaded from the bright afternoon sun. Ashley took out the two containers and held each one in either hand, "Cookies and cream or rocky road?"

Craig gestured for the cookies and cream. Ashley handed it to him. "Well…here's to bad days," Craig said and held up the ice cream tub.

Ashley smiled and held up her ice cream as well, "To bad days."

They were silent for a few minutes, digging into their ice cream with plastic spoons.

"Must've been a really bad day to want a whole pint," Craig said with a smile.

"Mmhmm…" Ashley answered her mouth full of ice cream. "It was particularly brutal. Somehow I've managed to alienate all my friends. I mean, today doesn't take the prize, but it was brutal."

Craig nodded and continued eating.

"But this makes up for all of it," she added.

Craig looked up at Ashley. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to…suddenly it was like he had hit a brick wall. His thoughts returned to his dad and how weird he was when he met Ashley's family. There was no way that this would ever work with Ashley. No way.

"Why are you here with me?" the words slipped out of his mouth and his voice was tainted with despair.

Ashley was a bit taken back, "Because I like you. Because you are my friend."

"I…uh…" Craig felt that he had to tell her that he was beat up like a pathetic dog, that he took a bunch of pills and spent the week in a hospital. He had to just come clean and tell her. He wasn't sure why he felt this overwhelming need to talk about this now. He had to ask, had to know what she thought. "What have you heard about me?"

"You really want to know?"

"Yes, I really want to know."

"Craig, it doesn't mean anything. What they are saying. It's just…"

Craig cut her off and waved his hand. "I know, I know. But I want to know what you have heard…what you think about me."

"After I tell you, will you tell me the truth?"

Craig nodded.

"People have been saying that you attempted suicide. That you took a bunch of pills and you were gone from school for a whole week because you were in a psychiatric ward. And you know…the story changes from person to person. Some people said that you took so many pills that you were in intensive care for a week."

Ashley paused to look at Craig. His face was blank. He met her eyes though. So she continued, "What was really weird is that some people thought that Mr. Simpson was the one who took you to the hospital. So some girls actually asked him about it."

"Did he say anything?"

Ashley looked surprised that there was some truth to that, "No."

There was some silence, "People were concerned, Craig. I know that you were the new kid or whatever, but people were still concerned. No one was telling us anything. We didn't know where you were. Sean and I…we were going crazy. Sean called your house and your dad said you weren't there. And he wouldn't say anything more."

"He called my dad?"

"Yeah…" Ashley looked down, a bit ashamed and worried that Craig would think his two friends were snooping and it wasn't their business. "We went by your house too. The housekeeper was just arriving. So we asked her if you were home. She said no. We kept asking her where you were and she finally told us that you were in the hospital."

Craig's head throbbed. He ran a hand through his hair and struggled to process all this information.

"We didn't tell anyone about that though," Ashley added quickly. "So…uh…then people started wondering why you would do something like that."

Craig looked up and into Ashley's eyes.

"Are you okay?" She asked.

"Yeah…I'm fine. This is just…strange."

"I don't think this was a good idea to talk about it. I know you are aware that people are talking and it's making things worse for you if we talk about it."

"No…it's fine. I know all this. I know what they were saying, sort of."

"So is it true? What happened?"

"I took a bunch of pills. And I went to Joey's. Mr. Simpson was there. And I puked on his floor and passed out in front of them. And I was taken to the hospital. I, uh, I don't remember anything from when I was taken there. But I guess I wasn't breathing well enough and they put a tube down my throat and hooked me up to a ventilator," the words were just flowing out of him. "And they pumped my stomach. I kind of remember that happening. I'd wake up on and off. It was a very, very messed up night. Afterwards, I wasn't in the psychiatric ward or intensive care. They just kept me in the hospital for awhile."

"Oh Craig," was all that Ashley could say. She gently touched his hand.

He let her wrap her fingers around his. Too bad it was under these circumstances, he thought bitterly.

"Why?" she whispered.

"You know…that I'm living with my step dad Joey now."

Ashley nodded.

"I couldn't go back and live with my dad. I couldn't live with him anymore because uh…we'd fight. It got kind of out of control. And I just…I don't know…I took the pills because I couldn't stand it anymore."

"I'm sorry," Ashley said her hand still around Craig's.

"Did you know about that? Were people saying things about that?"

Ashley shook her head, unable to meet Craig's eyes. She couldn't imagine having people discuss the most private details of your life like it was the plot of some TV show. She couldn't tell him that's how it was. They might have been concerned but it still wasn't their business. She looked back over at Craig, who was watching her.

"I…uh, I don't think I could deal with people knowing how things were with my dad," Craig said softly.

Ashley touched his shoulder. "I'm worried about you right now. I don't think we should have talked about this. It doesn't matter if anyone knows. Most people just…they just listen to the stories and then it goes out of their heads. Most don't care all that much. It's conversation to them. And the others were worried and now that you are back in school and we know that you are okay, the talking will stop."

"I didn't know what you'd think about all this…that's why I couldn't talk to you for awhile. I couldn't stand that you knew."

"Craig…" Ashley pulled her hand away from his. She had one hand his shoulder and touched his cheek with the other so he would meet her gaze. "It really doesn't change a whole lot. I mean…I was worried…I worry about you. But…it's not all that I see."

Ashley looked down sheepishly. Then she raised her gaze. "I can't help but think that you are so awesome. Talented…smart," Ashley paused as she thought about how attractive she found his tall frame, dark hair and eyes. She could feel her cheeks burning some. She looked down, her lips still pressed in a small smile.

Craig smiled a little as well.

"So don't worry about what anyone else is saying. Don't worry about what I'm thinking. Or actually, just ask me and I'll tell you," Ashley reassured.

There were a few moments of silence. Despite the odd situation, Craig felt okay. He didn't feel the normal panic that used to be forever engrained into him. Craig looked around the park, enjoying the trees turning to their fall colors and noticing the kids scrambling around the park. Things felt slower, things felt normal.

"This was a great way to start out my first year in high school," he finally said with a smile.

Ashley burst into laughter, "Oh man…I know what you are feeling. Oh, I so know what you are talking about."

"Well…now about you. What happened with you and your friends?"

"Oh, you must have heard the talk about that."

"Yes. And Sean…well…um…yeah," Craig said, suddenly feeling awkward for moving in on a girl Sean had history with.

"Sean. Yes, Sean. So the story is that I took some ecstasy one night and was out of my mind. Made out with Sean, publicly dumped Jimmy, and called Paige a hag."

Craig just nodded in response. There was more to this girl than met the eye, that was for sure.

"My parents were so pissed at me. So pissed cause the house was a mess, I was a mess. I ended up seeing a counselor all summer. And I came back this year thinking I could fix things. And things happened too fast and I didn't think about what I was doing, how I might hurt people again. So I'm on the outs again. But you know…it's really ok. It's like it was half blessing, half curse."

"Do you have a thing going with Sean?" Craig had to ask. He'd tried to get information out of Sean but he didn't bite.

"_We hooked up last year," Sean explained when Craig asked how they knew each other. _

"_Oh. Just once?" Craig pressed. _

"_That's what I said, Manning." _

"_But you are friends now, right? I mean, I saw you talking." _

"_Friends, yes." _

"_So you aren't going out with her?" _

"_No. Craig, you miss a week of school and you are going to miss out on some drama. Welcome to Degrassi." _

"Is that what he said? That we have something going on?" Ashley asked, incredulously.

"Oh, no. I was just wondering how you two knew each other. You are friends, right?"

"Just friends. Nothing's going on with Sean. Nothing with Jimmy. Jimmy hates me."

Craig nodded, "So you're stuck with me. I mean…not like…not like that."

Ashley smiled, "I'm stuck with you."

He looked down at his ice cream. "My ice cream is melting," he said and began to dig in.

"I kind of like it when it's all soupy," Ashley said as she ate the last few large chunks that hadn't melted. Then they moved the buckets of ice cream mush aside and lay down in the grass.

"I really don't want to go back to school next week," Craig mumbled as he gazed up.

"High school is going to suck," Ashley chimed in.

"So you said you were in counseling all summer cause of the 'E' thing?" He looked over at Ashley and found comfort in her strong gaze. He watched her nod.

"I have to see Sauvé, you know, the school psychologist," Craig explained and watched for her reaction.

"How's that for you?"

"Oh it's fabulous."

"Not enjoying it huh? Last summer wasn't the first time I've had to see someone. We all went into family counseling when my Mom moved in with Jeff. That was a pain, but hey, I guess it helped some. Maybe it won't be so bad with Sauvé?"

"Not likely. I don't know what to say. Last session was me explaining that indie rock is an umbrella term that covers a range of styles and I got into detail about new prog. Her eyes looked a little glazed by the time I was done."

Ashley giggled.

"What?" Craig questioned.

"Nothing. I just can't imagine Sauvé had anything to add to that conversation."

"It's always awkward," Craig sighed. "But it's not like I have a choice."

"Maybe it will get better later. She seems nice."

"Yeah she's nice. But…it's like everyone is watching me. Sauvé, teachers, Joey…are just waiting for me to freak out."

"It'll get better," Ashley reassured after a moment. She wasn't sure what else to say to Craig. She could hardly condemn the adults close to Craig for being concerned and protective when she felt the same way.

Craig rolled over onto his side and propped himself up with his elbow so he could see Ashley's face. Ashley noticed how his eyes seemed less shifty; ever since the first time she'd met him it seemed like he was always watching, like he had to be on the look out for something. She recalled how he barely looked up when he walked down the hall at school. Sometimes he'd meet her gaze, or Sean's, and then it seemed like he'd hold his head a bit higher. Now, he looked directly into her eyes and held her gaze. She couldn't help but smile, her heart felt warmer. Craig couldn't help but grin at how safe he felt, the sky blue of her eyes taking him up and away from everything that had weighed him down these past few weeks.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Yeah, this was a pretty fluffy chapter. Well, as fluffy as I can get. I'm all about the angst! More angst is on the way. I have an idea for a Christmas chapter but that's not for another 2 or 3 chapters so expect some updates happening _soon_. Sorry for the lack of updates. I must think less and write more. 


	9. Ghosts

**9. Ghosts**

"You are just like your mother."

Craig's eyes flew open and for a moment he couldn't even move. He just laid there in bed. He wasn't sure if he should move, maybe he didn't know he was there. Maybe he couldn't see him. He felt like a five year old in that moment, scared of monsters in the closet that would pounce once he got up to run to his parents' bed.

He waited too long and his father was on top of him now, fists flying.

"Joey!" Craig managed to yell out before he felt his body hit the floor.

"He doesn't want you anymore," Albert hissed. "Who in the world would want a screw up like you around?"

This isn't real. This isn't happening. But it sure seemed like it was. He could feel his father gripping his arms. He could even smell him; that mix of hospital, cologne, and the scent of the house they once shared together. He felt the sting as his father administered a slap across his face and once the tears cleared from his eyes Craig saw the rock posters on his walls. This was real. Everything was how it was before he fell asleep, right down to his flannel pajama bottoms and faded black t-shirt he remembered falling asleep in.

"Joey!"

Craig awoke hearing himself yelling out his stepfather's name. He sat up in bed and frantically looked around the room. It wasn't dark anymore. It was morning, a gray morning with the weak light trying to push through the blinds. Craig quickly looked over himself. No redness, no bruises, no pain. It was a dream. He jumped out of bed, threw open his bedroom door and raced down the stairs. His clothes were damp with sweat and the cool air made him tremble some.

He looked around the living room. The television wasn't on. No sounds from the kitchen. Craig entered and noticed how still everything seemed. The refrigerator wasn't humming and the coffee pot wasn't on.

"What?" Craig asked once his eyes rested on the clock. 6:57 AM. They were still asleep. That's it. He pounded up the stairs, not caring the slightest about awakening them. He opened Angie's bedroom as quietly as he could muster. Her bed was neatly made and stuffed animals stared back at him.

"Joey," Craig said and went for his bedroom. The room was neat and tidy, no dirty laundry in sight, and the bed made. He stood there for a moment, his mouth open.

I just want to wake up, he thought. Wake up, he yelled in his head. But nothing happened. The house was quiet around him. He went for the stairs again and out the kitchen door. The concrete was cold and wet on his feet but he didn't care. He flung open the garage door and was puzzled by the lack of Joey's car. What was going on?

He needed to hear another human's voice. It was too quiet. He rigidly entered the house and went for the telephone. He paced the floor and simply clutched the phone for a few moments. Who should he call? This was crazy. There had to be a reason for all this. He was awake wasn't he? He waited, waited for that moment when he would wake up in his bed. But it didn't happen.

Craig ran his finger along the list of phone numbers that hung on the fridge. Beginning to tremble, he punched in Mr. Simpson's number and sank down into one of the kitchen chairs. He couldn't help but rock back and forth some as he listened to the ring. "Hi this is Archie Simpson. Please leave a message and I'll get back to you."

He didn't reply right after he heard the beep. He couldn't. Then he started to ramble. "Hi, uh, this is Craig. Craig Manning. Joey's stepson. Um, this is going to sound weird but there's no one here. It's uh, it's just strange and I'm kind of worried. I can't remember going to sleep last night. I thought they were here but I can't remember going to sleep. They would have been here right? I'm sorry, I know it sounds crazy but if you could just…uh, let me know if you've heard from Joey. I just need to hear from Joey," Craig finished and listed to the silence on the other end for a few moments. He knew that Simpson would pick up once he heard that. He woke Simpson up, he would pick up, and he'd hear his teacher's voice soon.

But it was just silence. He clicked off the phone. Right now Craig just needed to know that someone was there. Anyone. He found himself punching in his father's number and tried to keep from shaking as he listened to the repetition of the phone ring.

"Hello?"

"Oh my God. Oh Thank God! Dad!" Craig couldn't help but blurt out and laughed nervously. "Dad, the…"

"Excuse me? Are you talking to me or are you talking to Joey?"

"What?" Craig gasped as his heart nearly stopped.

"Didn't you decide that Joey was your father when you moved out?"

"Please listen to me. I don't know where Joey is. I'm really scared, Dad. I know it's stupid but I'm scared," Craig said and felt tears burn his eyes. One trickled down his cheek when he heard his father laugh.

"I'll tell you where Joey is. He's dead."

"What?!" Craig yelled and heard the dial tone in response. "No. No. No," he repeated as he hit redial. He let it ring and ring and finally gave up, tossing the phone onto the kitchen table. "Why would he say that? He's just trying to hurt me," Craig reasoned with himself and began to search the house again.

He found the laundry room empty and cold. The upstairs bathroom was quiet; the sink didn't even drip. He even checked his room again, the closet. The linen closet. Angela's bedroom. He was sobbing as he raced into Joey's bedroom. He pulled clothes off their hangers in the closet, still not convinced they weren't here. They were hiding. They wouldn't leave him. He ran downstairs again, pausing to check outside for Joey's car. This wasn't happening.

"Why can't I wake up?" He yelled at himself and went for the phone again.

He found little comfort in hearing the familiar tone of his Media Immersion teacher. "Hi this is Archie Simpson. Please leave a message and I'll get back to you."

"Please pick up. I need to know where Joey is," Craig cried. He waited and waited but Simpson didn't answer. He heard a beep and then the robotic operator "Please hang up and try again."

He punched in his father's number. He heard the phone pick up but then nothing.

"Why would you say that to me? Why would you say that Joey is dead?" Craig demanded.

He listened. "I can hear you. I know you are there. Talk to me, Dad."

"Craig."

Craig was dumbstruck by the familiar voice. He couldn't figure it out. A female's voice. Someone he used to hear all the time. Someone he hadn't heard in quite a while.

"Do you know where my dad is?"

"He left you. He left you because we left him."

Craig listened to the stillness on the line. He knew she was there though, he could sense her. "Where did he go?"

"He's dead."

"No, I just talked to him. Who is this?"

"You've forgotten me already?"

"Mom?" Craig questioned.

"She's dead!" The voice was colder now, bitter. Angry.

"I need Joey!"

"He's dead!"

"I want to wake up now!" Craig screamed.

His eyes were open now and he could hear himself crying. It took him several moments to get himself to stop. He couldn't get himself to breath normally though. It was like he was holding his breath and had to tell himself to breathe. You shouldn't have to tell yourself to breathe, he silently argued with himself. Did he want to die? If you don't breathe, you'll die. What kind of person has to tell himself to breathe? His hands were tingling and as he stood up, he felt the sensation of pins and needles in his feet. What was going on? He began to fear that he wasn't awake yet. This might never end. He wasn't sure if his heart could pound anymore wildly. He paused by his door, his trembling fingers on the door knob. Maybe his father really was here. Maybe he wasn't and he was still dreaming. Craig's eyes scanned over the dark bedroom and rested on the window. He was surprised that he never developed a plan for what he would do if he had to get out of here because it wasn't safe. He wasn't sure which was worse, his father being here or no one left at all. He pressed his ear to the door and listened.

It was quiet. You are awake, he told himself. But if I'm awake, then why does it feel like I'm not here? He wondered. He managed to get himself to open his bedroom door and got his feet to move, even though he felt like he was wading through wet cement. He paused outside of Joey's bedroom to lean up against the wall, afraid he was going to pass out.

"Joey?" He questioned as he pushed open the door. He blinked at the warm glow of the bedside lamp and quickly noticed the turned down bed sheets. Where was Joey?

Craig could hear himself breathing heavy now and was barely aware of his body as he moved down the hall and towards the stairs. It was like he was floating, not really there, but just a ghost. Was this another one of those dreams? His chest hurt too much for it to be.

"Joey?" Craig managed to choke out. The kitchen light was on and he heard a chair slide across the floor.

Run. Get out of here. That's all he could think. But he wasn't moving, just staring and for a moment he could have sworn it was his father and not Joey that was heading for him.

"Hey. Craig. What's wrong, buddy?" Joey questioned, rubbing Craig's tense shoulders. He could feel that the boy's shirt was damp with sweat and he could feel him shaking. "Are you sick?"

Joey watched as Craig didn't answer. He was just looking around the room, his gaze unblinking and eyes shiny with tears. Joey felt guilty for not waking him up the second he heard the sobbing. He heard him crying in his sleep and instead of waking him, had headed downstairs where Craig could find him if he needed to talk. Joey knew that sometimes the teenager would want company after a nightmare, although usually they never spoke of the fact that was what woke him up and carried on as if they both wanted to watch the same late night talk show because they couldn't sleep. Other nights he'd hear the crying stop, he'd see the light flicker on, and hear the soft voices of late night television shows. Sometimes he'd enter to turn off the TV once it had soothed Craig back to sleep. But tonight felt different. Craig was a little too spacey and obviously more rattled than usual.

"I don't feel right," Craig managed to mumble and couldn't help but suck air in rapidly. He still couldn't breathe.

"Let's get you some water," Joey decided and began to lead his stepson out into the kitchen.

"My head still feels weird," Craig said as he sank down into the chair. He rubbed his forehead, wishing that he wouldn't feel so numb and fuzzy. That feeling just reminded him to being trapped in a dream, unable to wake up. "I think I'm going crazy."

"No. You aren't. I think you've been having nightmares," Joey said and handed Craig a glass of water. He watched as the teen took a few sips. Joey took the glass out of his shaking hands once he had finished.

"But it's like I'm not awake and I still can't breathe," Craig tried to explain and the moment he mentioned breathing, his heart rate picked up and he couldn't help but begin to breathe heavily again.

"Hey…I think you are having a panic attack."

Craig rubbed his forehead again, this time noticing how his fingertips were numb. "I knew I was going crazy."

"No. You aren't going crazy. Look, I'm going to get you some meds okay? You are okay," Joey soothed and gave Craig a small reassuring smile. "I'll be right back. Stay right here."

"No. Please don't leave me," Craig pleaded and firmly gripped Joey's forearm.

Joey was a little taken back by the situation and did the only thing that made sense; he reached for Craig and drew him into a hug. He rubbed small circles on the boy's back. "You are okay. Just a bad dream," Joey repeated over and over.

"I'm going to get you some meds," Joey said after a few minutes. He broke his embrace and watched Craig for a moment.

"I can't move," Craig whispered. "My body feels too heavy to move."

Joey nodded, "I'm going to get you some meds so you can feel better." He gave Craig's hand a firm squeeze before heading upstairs. He returned with the anti-anxiety medication and both sat at the kitchen table to wait until it kicked in. Craig seemed to find comfort in Joey's presence and Joey just sat there, occasionally making small talk but not being bothered when Craig didn't respond with much besides a "I don't know" or a "maybe." Twenty minutes later he managed to get Craig to return to bed, even though Craig maintained that he probably couldn't sleep.

Craig lay down anyway and alternated his gaze between the TV and his stepfather, who sat at the foot of the bed.

"Do you want to tell me about the dream?" Joey asked.

Craig turned his gaze away from Joey's face and shifted uncomfortably.

"Okay, we don't have to talk about it. I just thought it might help."

Craig felt his eyelids growing heavy and he rubbed at them. "I don't know if I can sleep."

"Just try," Joey urged. Tomorrow morning was going to happen sooner than they both thought.

He propped himself up on his elbows. "No, I really don't want to sleep. Ever have one of those dreams where you dream you are awake and you just can't wake up? It was one of those."

"It's over with now."

Craig lay back down, suddenly feeling embarrassed about the whole situation. "You're right. This is stupid."

"No, it's not. I'm sure it was terrifying."

"No, it is stupid. It's over with and I'm just acting like a little kid. It wasn't ever that bad in the first place," Craig mumbled and pulled the blankets tighter. Joey watched him close his eyes as he wondered what to say. He figured Craig was speaking of his relationship with his father and he never knew what to say when Craig tried to downplay the abuse.

"It's over with, you are safe," Joey soothed.

"The worst part was when everyone was gone. I think that's what I'm most afraid of…" was the last thing he said before he drifted off to sleep.

Joey simply watched Craig for a few minutes, wondering about what he'd just said. He had no idea what Craig was talking about, other than it must have been something he'd dreamt.

"I'm with you for the long haul, don't worry about it kid," Joey quietly reassured and pulled the blankets up around his stepson's shoulders.

* * *

Joey paused outside of Craig's bedroom door, listened, and then knocked. "Are you up yet?" He didn't get a response. He sighed and opened the door. 

He felt sympathy for Craig, since he'd had a rough night. Today was going to be especially painful getting him up. This kid was always hard to get out of bed. Craig and Angela were not morning people and were usually grumpy in the car. Craig was even worse on days that he had to go in to see the school psychologist. Craig's bad mood usually lasted all day. He knew it was a Monday or a Wednesday because he'd arrive home to see Craig motionless on the couch in front of the TV or the music cranked up so loud he could hear it the second he pulled into the driveway. He knew not to ask how Craig's day was, much less inquire how his visits with Ms. Sauvé were going.

"Craig, come on and get up," Joey encouraged for the fourth time that morning.

Joey listened to Craig mumble something unintelligible into his pillow. He kneeled down by the bed and rubbed Craig's back. "How are you feeling?" Craig's eyes were open now, but his eyelids were still heavy with sleepiness. He put his hand on his stepson's forehead, noticing but not verbally addressing how the kid flinched some. "You don't have a fever."

"I'm fine," Craig mumbled and stretched.

Joey stood up and moved towards Craig's desk. He began to gather textbooks and notebooks, hoping that would save them a few minutes. "I gave you some meds last night, do you remember that? Do they give you a weird hang over or anything?"

He watched as Craig shook his head in response. "I don't know. I'm just tired."

"Okay, well, get dressed and come down and grab some breakfast alright?"

* * *

By some small miracle they made it to Degrassi on time, with minutes to spare. Joey decided to take a chance and mention Craig's counseling sessions. 

"Hey, look, I know you are seeing Ms. Sauvé today," he said gently. "Maybe you want to mention the panic attack to her?"

Craig froze with donut half way to his mouth. "Um, I don't know."

"She might be able to tell you ways that could help you deal with any anxiety you have."

"Please don't tell anyone about this. I feel stupid enough already."

"No, that's not what I meant…"

"I know you talk to Robert about me," Craig accused.

"He's your social worker. But it's not about that. Ms. Sauvé is there to…"

"Have you ever talked to her about me?"

This was not going well. He should have known his stepson would be so defensive. "Of course I don't talk to her about you. You know she can't tell me anything you talk about. Your sessions are private. That's why you should talk to her."

Craig sighed. The three day a week sessions had been reduced to two since he had been living with Joey for a month. He figured that they all assumed that since he hadn't done anything crazy by now, they could give him a break. Sometimes he figured that the school psychologist wasn't going to let up until he broke down and gave her all the horrible details about the beatings his dad would administer or how everyday he still thought about his mother and how much he missed her. Craig shook his head, trying to get rid of all these thoughts. He managed to raise his eyes enough to watch Joey nod.

"Alright. Have a good day, Craig," Joey said as Craig climbed out of the car.

"Yeah. You too," Craig said in return before closing the door.

As Joey watched Craig enter the school he couldn't help but wonder how he could help more. Craig's social worker had informed him that Craig and his father could speak on the phone now, as long as he was present in the room with Craig. _"It almost never is in the best interest of the child to eliminate all contact," Robert had explained._ Joey figured that this rule was created because of the holidays. Thanksgiving had passed without a word from Albert Manning though. Joey reflected on how Craig had immediately checked the answering machine once they returned home from the feast at his parents. The teen had claimed that he didn't care and didn't want to speak to his father but Joey could tell that he had been expecting to hear from him. He hoped that Craig wasn't blaming himself for the lack of contact. Joey gripped the steering wheel tighter and hoped that Albert wasn't avoiding speaking with Craig to punish him.

Joey sighed as he pulled out of the parking lot. He hoped Christmas would go smoothly. It made him nervous to think about the possibility that Craig would be allowed to see his father.

"Don't worry, I'll keep him safe, Julia," Joey whispered.

* * *

**Authors note:** I love the way that Rubyslippers89 described how Joey would wait up late at night in case if Craig had nightmares in the fic "Father Figure" and that was a big inspiration here.

Thanks for the reviews guys. Hearing from you always makes me want to write more.


	10. Up, Up, and Away

**10. Up, Up, and Away**

Craig rolled over and punched his pillow. Sleep just was not happening. He sighed, rolled back onto his back, and stared up at the ceiling. He wondered when he'd ever be able to sleep normally. Sometimes it seemed like it was either a sleepless night or he'd be plagued by nightmares. The other day he had dozed off on the couch and had one of his most vivid dreams to date. He knew what that was about. The visits to Sauvé were only stirring up things he wanted so desperately to forget. He didn't understand why he had to talk about _that _stuff. And he was starting to talk. That frightened him even more.

He kicked off the blankets and sat up. He couldn't lay here all night doing nothing or even worse, thinking. With a sigh, he headed down stairs for a glass of water. He found himself being excessively quiet downstairs. He made sure not to clink the glasses and didn't turn the water on full blast. He stood so that the staircase was in view. He had to see if he'd woken up Joey. He didn't want to wake up Joey; didn't want to know his reaction. The one sure thing that would send his father into a rage was being disturbed out of sleep. Craig stopped himself. What was he doing? This was Joey.

He set the empty glass in the kitchen sink and slowly crossed over into the darkened lighting room. He glanced at the television but headed for the window instead. Craig stared out into the dark street. Everything was quiet. Too quiet. He glanced around the living room while debating whether or not he was up for making an attempt at sleep. He sighed and flicked on a lamp, then began rummaging through the mess on the coffee table, looking for the book they were assigned to read for English or maybe a music magazine. That wasn't want he found. Underneath a stack of old newspapers was a paperback book with a small sad child on the cover and the title was in a bold font: _How To Raise an Abused Child_. What the hell was this? He stared at the cover of the book for the longest time.

A part of him wanted to stalk up the stairs and demand to know why Joey was reading that. He didn't want him thinking about what happened to him, it was that simple. That was it. He was tired of all these labels, people checking in on him. He hated the casual questions his social worker asked about school and how life was at Joey's. He hated the conversation he knew was happening between his stepfather and Robert even more. His heart began to pound harder as his anger level rose.

Craig shook his head and started up the stairs. Why did they have to make such a big deal out of this? Why not just let it go? Everything would be fine if they'd let it, he was sure of it. "Just let it go," he whispered silently to himself as he stood in the darkened hall. He headed into the bathroom, like that had been his intention the whole time. He splashed cold water on his face. It was strange how he was too much here and too far gone into his head at the same time. He brushed a few water droplets off his cheek and stared into his reflection in the mirror.

Craig wasn't sure what was bothering him really. Something was there. He could feel it in the back of his brain. It was always like, there a tumor. Sometimes it throbbed but most of the time it was just…there. Sometimes he felt like it was lodged in his throat. He wanted to spit out, just talk about it like they wanted him to. But he didn't know what to say. Hell, he didn't even know what this was about.

"I don't know what to do," Craig whispered to his reflection.

* * *

"Can I speak to Craig for a moment?" Ms. Sauvé asked as she stepped into Mr. Simpson's classroom.

"Sure," Simpson said and returned to his lecture. Simpson watched Craig shoot him a look. First he saw confusion in his eyes, then some kind of rage. His relationship was Craig was sometimes an awkward one, despite that they enjoyed each others company outside of school when he would get together with buddy Jeremiah. He assumed that Craig thought of him as a narc and kept Joey informed of all the details of his life at Degrassi. He knew it was true to an extent. As a teacher he was watchful but because it was Joey's stepson, he felt he had more of an obligation. He tried not to make it obvious that he was watching as the boy left the classroom.

"How are you doing Craig?" Ms. Sauvé asked as she put a hand on Craig's back and began to lead him towards her office, "Do you mind if we talk for a little bit?"

Craig stepped inside, "Yeah its fine…but…didn't we already do this this week?"

"It'll be a short meeting. I just wanted to check in with you. Go ahead and take a seat."

He sat down stiffly, wondering what this was about.

"Craig, this morning Ms. Hatzilakos noticed some cuts on your wrist," Ms. Sauvé said. "She came and talked to me about it because she's concerned. I told her I would check in with you and see how you are doing."

Craig was silent for a minute, trying to figure out how that happened. He'd been wearing long sleeve shirts and always was aware of the cuts and trying to hide them. He wondered how many other people had seen them.

"I don't really have anything to say about that," he finally answered.

"I know from your file that this isn't a new thing," she started.

"From my file?" Craig interrupted. He hated how people were still talking about him. He knew that information, his personal information, was being exchanged.

"Yes. Your social worker has written up a short summary about what's been going on in your life recently. The cutting was mentioned."

"How many people know about this stuff? Why does everyone have to know?" Craig couldn't help but feel more rattled. The cutting hadn't come up in his sessions with Sauvé. He wasn't sure if he ever was going to bring it up but he wanted to be the one to make that choice.

"I have your file because I am your school psychologist. Mental health professionals can share that kind of information, with the consent of their patient, or in your case, consent from their guardian. The principal knows only the bare minimum; he had to know why Joey is your guardian now. Your teachers have only been told that you've missed some school due to some family problems and that Joey is your guardian now," Ms. Sauvé paused. "And they've been told to look out for any signs that show that you are having some problems."

Craig could only shake his head.

"But you have to know that even if they weren't informed of your current situation, they would still have come to me to tell me about the cutting. They would do that with any student."

"I'm not doing it for attention though. I want to be left alone. I haven't done it in like forever." He was anxious to try to explain, anxious to get out of there.

"Can I take a look at the cuts?"

Craig smiled nervously. "That's kind of weird."

"I know it seems weird. I just want to see what they look like and how they are healing."

Craig pulled up his sleeve, extended his arm towards Ms. Sauvé, and turned his arm over so she could see his wrist. She gently took his hand and looked over his wrist.

"They don't look too deep. That's good. You are careful, I see."

"I'm not trying to cut deep."

The psychologist let go of his wrist and asked, "What are you cutting with, Craig?"

"A razorblade," Craig said softly and reflected on the stash of bandages and razorblades he kept hidden away in an empty box of photo paper. He recalled how he took pleasure in marking the box "photo sensitive, do not open" before he put on the top shelf of his closet. He thought that would keep it a secret.

"Do you always cut your wrists?"

Craig nodded. He couldn't believe they were talking about this.

"When did you cut yourself?"

"Uh, last night. I couldn't sleep," Craig shook his head. He watched Ms. Sauvé open a file cabinet drawer and pull out a folder. He was hesitant to take the sheets of paper she had in her hand.

"These are some questions I'd like you to answer the next time you feel the urge to hurt yourself."

Craig scanned over the questions quickly. _"Why do I feel the need to hurt myself?" "How have I dealt with these feelings before?" _He silently read the first two questions to himself.

"Uh, I'm not sure about this. If I have an answer to any of that or if I want you to even know about it," Craig finally said.

"You don't have to show it to me. The important thing is that we get you more aware of why you feel the urge to self-injure and address possible ways you could deal with those feelings instead of hurting yourself. Right now it seems like you aren't too aware of why you cut. Can you try to think it over the next time before you cut? Think about why you want to injure yourself and what you are feeling. Think about how you'll feel after you cut and if it will really help, or complicate things even more."

"But I don't want to think about any of this! Look, I know you all want me to talk about my dad or whatever but I don't know what you want me to say about him."

"Have you made any contact with your father since you moved in with Joey?"

Craig shook his head. "My social worker said we could talk on the phone now. I, uh, figured we'd talk over Thanksgiving. I didn't really want to talk to him but I figured he'd call. But he didn't. I didn't hear from him. I mean, not that it's strange. He was always giving me the silent treatment. I mean, once he didn't talk to me for a month cause I used his favorite frying fan," Craig paused to sigh. It was strange how he could remember this moment so vividly. "I scratched it. He has nice stuff so I can understand why, I guess. I dunno. It's a big house so it's not like it was hard for him to ignore me."

"How did that make you feel?"

"I don't know. It's not exactly having the best feeling in the world knowing that your own father can't even stand to look at you. But I guess it's better than when he'd hi-" Craig froze and stared at the psychologist for a moment. He was sure that he looked like a deer caught in the headlights, eyes wide and body frozen.

"Do you believe that you had to choose between that sort of negative attention or not receiving any attention at all?"

"I never intentionally screwed up. It just happens, okay? One of these days Joey is going to realize..." Craig stopped himself.

"Craig? Do you find yourself comparing your father and stepfather often?" Ms. Sauvé prompted.

Craig shrugged. "I don't know. I like it at Joey's." Then he came to a realization. "Are you going to tell Joey about this? The cutting freaks him out, I know it does."

"Our sessions are private. The only reason I would have to tell someone anything is if you are a threat to yourself or someone else."

"I think Joey thinks that it means I'm thinking about offing myself. And I'm not. I swear I'm not."

"That's good, Craig. But if you start to think about it, you have to tell someone okay? You can talk to Joey about it, or your social worker, a teacher, or me if you want. But you have to talk to someone if you are feeling that way."

"I swear I'm not. That night was a mistake. I wasn't thinking. Look, I don't really like remembering that night."

"You were in a lot of pain."

Craig looked out the window and didn't respond.

"I know that you probably don't want to be thinking about why you are hurting," Ms. Sauvé said.

"No, I just don't want to talk about it."

"That too. But talking is one way how we are going to get you to start feeling better."

"Okay," Craig said, "But I just really don't want to talk about it right now."

"That's fine, Craig. I don't want you talk about anything you aren't ready to do."

There was a moment of silence. Craig felt incredibly awkward. He looked around the room, certificates from university, plants; "Just don't let me think about what's going on,"he thought to himself.

"I'll write you up a pass," Ms. Sauvé glanced at the clock, "for your next class. Sorry that you missed most of Mr. Simpson's class."

Craig nodded, "Not doing much in there anyways." He stood up.

As the psychologist handed him his pass, she said, "I'll see you next week, then? During your independent study time."

Craig left the psychologist's office feeling drained, and a bit exposed. He never imagined that so many people would ever know about the cutting. They could see how damaged he was now. He slowly walked back to Simpson's classroom to pick up his books. He found the room was empty, except for his teacher. Simpson looked up from his computer as Craig walked in.

"Just grabbing my stuff," Craig mumbled as he gathered his textbook and notebook. He couldn't get himself to meet Simpson's gaze. He knew his teacher had to be thinking that something was wrong because the school psychologist pulled him out of class. Then he probably was reminded of the time he saw him at his worst, throwing up because of the overdose and just plain out of it. Craig started feeling more frantic. Would he tell Joey that Sauvé pulled him out his class? Why did Joey have to be friends with his teacher anyway?

"Okay. Have a good day Craig," Mr. Simpson called out.

Craig glanced at him. He couldn't meet his eyes. "Uh, yeah. You too," he replied and hurried out of the room.

He silently scolded himself as he walked to his locker. Usually he was so careful about the cuts. How did that happen? he silently wondered as he angrily pulled at the lock. Who else had seen? Just stop thinking he tried to tell himself. Things were moving too fast through his head: the session with Sauvé and all her advice that just seemed strange, that night when he oded, his dad. No, Craig interrupted himself, his father didn't bother him and why didn't anyone believe him when he said that?

"Shit!" Craig mumbled as he dug around in his locker for his math notebook. He grabbed his backpack and began to poke around frantically in it. A missing assignment was not a blow his math grade could take right now.

Then he froze. He had forgotten all about this. Craig removed a film canister from his backpack and popped off the cap. This was where he had stashed the painkillers he sneaked out of his dad's medicine cabinet when Joey and he had packed up his belongings. He quickly tucked them into his pocket, glancing around the empty hallway. He had kept them close the first few weeks he was at Joey's, knowing that if Joey found them he would panic. Maybe this was what he had been saving them for. He couldn't help but feel more in control now. He pulled the container out of his pocket and picked out a white tablet. With a nervous glance, he popped the pill into his mouth and swallowed. Why the hell not, right?

* * *

It came on smooth and steadily. Craig wasn't sure what to expect and assumed that the sleepiness he felt in math class was the painkiller. Then he realized any mind numbness was just an effect of geometry, nothing chemical at all. Instead it crept in during history class. His body was a bit numb, his head a little fuzzy, and the miraculous thing was that he felt okay. He didn't care about the conversation with Ms. Sauvé. He didn't quite believe it. As a test he allowed himself to think about his father, all the grim details. It all came back to him easily and it didn't hurt this time. He was stunned. It was like things were just allowed to exist. It really was okay now.

Craig was scarcely aware when his teacher snapped him out of his daze with a question. He fumbled for an answer and got a disapproving nod in return. His hands began to sweat some. He had to get out of here; who knew how obvious it was that he had taken something. Besides, he didn't want to waste this trapped in school.

After class, he weaved his way through the bodies in the school hallway. Their loud voices were distant and hollow. He focused on Sean.

"Hey man," Craig greeted Sean.

"Craig. What's up?"

"Feel like cutting out?"

Sean shrugged at Craig. "Two more periods to go. Not a big deal."

"Come on, let's cut out. Start the weekend early," Craig encouraged with a slow smile.

Sean noticed Craig's glassy eyes and how he was slouched up against the lockers some. Something was different but yet familiar about the way Craig was acting. He took a quick inventory of his friend; he didn't smell like alcohol or marijuana. It didn't make sense.

"Have you been drinking?" Sean questioned in a low tone. He watched as Craig shook his head. "Are you high?"

Craig shrugged. "I don't know what I am. But…I think I need to get out of here."

Sean nodded. He didn't want to see Craig busted. On the other hand, this made him a little nervous. "Are you okay?"

Craig scratched at his right shoulder. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, what are you on?"

"Look, I took a painkiller. It's not a big deal. But I'm just not in the mood for this. I'm going to cut out. If you want, come along. If not, well…whatever."

Sean sighed. Craig and his bright ideas. Yeah, like he was going to leave him alone high on painkillers. He wasn't sure how that would affect a person but he wasn't sure he should be alone under the influence of them. Also, Sean still didn't know if the rumors were true about Craig's overdose during that first month of school. Was that an accident? What was Craig doing this time? "What the hell…count me in," Sean replied.

"Okay. Meet me at the east door in five then."

* * *

Sean suggested that they head over to his place, despite that it wasn't their usual hang out. They usually went to Joey's for the free food and video games and when that proved boring, they roamed around town looking for something they hadn't done a million times before. Hanging out at Joey's or someplace public like the mall was out today though, especially since Sean sensed that Craig was a bit paranoid.

Craig knew that he screwed up. Even if he could keep the whole pill popping thing a secret, Joey was still going to flip out about him skipping school and not calling and telling him where he was. Despite his worry about Joey's reaction, he was angered by this guy being all overprotective and telling him what to do. Who did he think he was? His father? At this thought, Craig headed into the bathroom and contemplated taking another pill. He could. It had been a few hours. He could halve the pill and take that, he reasoned. No harm in that, especially now. He screwed up and it was too late to make things right.

Craig exited the bathroom to find the phone ringing again. He sighed. "Don't answer," he instructed Sean.

"Why don't you just tell Joey you are over here?" Sean asked, knowing that Craig figured that it was Joey who kept calling.

"Because…just not right now, okay?" Craig recalled how he had been living with Joey for almost two months and sometimes he could still pick up on that weird tension that made him wonder what Joey truly thought about him. He hadn't listened in on his stepfather's phone conversations with his social worker but man had he been tempted. Did they all really think he was that nuts and was plotting to run away or do something crazy? Maybe if they just left him alone he wouldn't have to do stuff like this.

"Maybe we should get out of here," Craig urged. "School's been out for awhile. It's a Friday…something's going to be going on, right?"

Sean shrugged in response and they headed out. "Now what?" Sean asked as they turned the block and headed down another street.

"Feel like catching a movie? It's on me. I think that..." Craig trailed off as a car approached them. The booming music heightened in volume as the passenger window rolled down.

"Hey Cameron," Jay greeted and only offered a slight glance in Craig's direction.

Craig hung back some and let the growing darkness and painkiller high take him away from the conversation he wasn't much part of. It was always like that when Sean was around Jay and his friends. Craig wasn't sure when or how that friendship had happened. It went from some near fist fight between the boys to Sean spending extra hours in the shop helping him and Jay's older friends out with their car.

"We're heading over to this house party on 50th," Craig overheard Jay say. Craig's interest peaked.

"I heard about that. That one guy? Isn't he on varsity? I can just imagine the great company there," Sean said sarcastically. "I'll pass."

"We're going to crash. Make it our party," Jay encouraged with a sly smile.

"We should go," Craig blurted out and glanced over at Sean, who shrugged. "I've got the party favors."

"What's this kid talking about?" Jay asked Sean and gestured to Craig.

"Party favors of the pharmaceutical variety. I've got a couple oxy's left. You game?" Craig said.

Jay exchanged a glance with the driver of the car and Craig watched as the guy in the backseat opened the door.

"Hop in."

* * *

**Authors Note:** Hey guys. Sorry for the lack of updates like I promised. My big tween crush Brad Renfro passed away two weeks ago and THEN my computer contracted some type of plague which made me a not so happy writer. But things are looking up now, I'm on a new computer, and YAY! all my stuff is backed up on an external hard drive. Expect another chapter that follows up this one and then that Christmas chapter I mentioned in the previous author's note. I feel like I should clarify that I wrote all this with the Canadian Thanksgiving in mind, if you are confused about any timeline. 


	11. Under and Out

**11. Under and Out**

Joey was surprised to find the house empty and dark. Prior to that moment, he didn't think much of not hearing from Craig. He figured that Craig was with a friend and had forgotten to check in with him. He assumed he'd find him here. Or discover a note taped to the refrigerator which explained that he was at the movies with friends or over at Ashley's house. There was no note. Once Angela was settled, Joey went for the answering machine. A message from his mother, the woman he went on a date with last weekend, and the Degrassi Community School. Craig skipped his last two periods of school. Why would he do that? Joey felt his heart rate pick up once he realized that was the last message. Craig didn't call. He didn't know where Craig was. Joey immediately shut the machine off, picked up the phone, and began calling Craig's friends. Lastly, he called Simpson when Craig's friends stated that they hadn't seen him.

"Craig skipped out on school. Did you know? Why didn't you tell me?" he couldn't help but ramble.

"He was in my class. That was the last I've seen of him. I didn't know. Did you try his friends?"

"Yes. Every single one of them…that I know of. I don't know if he's given me the number of all his friends. None of them seem to know where he is, if I can get a hold of them. I don't know what to do."

"Don't panic. He's a teenager. I'm sure he's fine. He probably skipped with a friend he just spaced out. Give him a few hours."

Joey gave Craig that. It was difficult but he managed to carry on with the normal household activities. Once Angie was in bed, nothing could distract him. Too many scenarios were running through his head. Craig ran away, a suicide attempt was in the works, his father picked him up, or he went to his father's willingly and was in trouble now. Too many hours had passed. He had to act now. He found himself on the phone with Simpson again.

"Craig still isn't home," Joey frantically stated. "I should go check out his favorite hang outs. Angela…"

"Hey, look, I'll be right over with a list of his classmates phone numbers and I'll sit with Angie. I see him around with Marco, Jimmy, and Spinner. Have you tried them?"

"Craig didn't give me Spinner's number. I have Marco and Jimmy's. They haven't heard from him. No answer at Sean's," Joey sighed. "Something is wrong, Snake, I can feel it. I don't know what to do. I just know something is wrong."

* * *

Craig could instantly detect when the painkiller buzz was fading. He was starting to feel conversations with his high school peers becoming forced. Before, he was confident and any negative thoughts was numbed. And he didn't worry about Joey's reaction to all this. He could just imagine the consequences at his father's house if he pulled a stunt like this. What would Joey's reaction be? Would he decide that he was too much trouble? What would his mother would say if she was still alive? At that thought he took the pint of whiskey from Jay and took a swig. He struggled not to cringe at the strong taste. 

"Hey, easy on the bottle there," Sean urged and took it out of his hands and handed it back to Jay.

"Uh, thanks for the advice Mom," Craig joked before heading back into the crowd.

Jay shook his head and watched Craig disappear. Something about this kid irked him. "He is a weird one. Hey, I'll go grab us another round," Jay said.

"Grab me a mountain dew, instead, will you?" Sean asked.

Jay paused. "Really, boy scout?"

"Yeah, really. I'm not in the mood tonight. And I'm not one of those grade 9 skanks you are trying to get drunk so you can get in their pants so drop the attitude."

"Alright. I know you have your hands full playing Manning's babysitter."

Sean rolled his eyes in response.

"Come on, it's fun to get a first timer drunk," Jay encouraged with a mischievous grin.

"Not when they've been popping pills."

"I figured he was bluffing about the oxy. Trying to be a cool kid or whatever. He really is that messed up, huh? Is the ambulance acting as your chauffeur later?"

"No. You are. So ease up on him so he doesn't blow chunks in your car."

"Alright, alright, I hear you," Jay said and waved his hand dismissively. "He seems like the type who would lose it after a few and crack some guys ribs anyway."

* * *

Craig knew that he should be keeping track of how much he'd been drinking or if the remaining oxy was still in his pocket. But he found it hard to care, especially when he found himself sitting close to a grade 11 girl on the couch. Another drink from the vodka bottle and it was passed back into her hands. Make your move, Manning, he urged himself. Her hand was on his knee now and he was still rambling about the latest CD's he bought. 

More voices, more people. Her friends, he realized. Sometimes it was hard to focus on what they were saying but they didn't seem to care.

"Hey…so is it true that you took a whole bottle of pills awhile back?" A girl slurred out.

"Of course it's not," Craig mumbled, feeling panicky. He managed to remain with the group for a few moments before excusing himself, mumbling about needing another beer.

That single question hit him hard, a quick blow to his head that sobered him up some. The wonderful thing about booze was that it seemed to take all that away. He thought that it was foolproof, he was indestructible now. The past couldn't hurt him. He was wrong. He still cared and the flood gates had been opened. He didn't want to react, didn't want to feel.

It just wasn't working anymore, Craig realized after he had abandoned his half empty beer and replaced it with a few shots of whiskey. He had to go "home" and try to fix things. He kept repeating to himself that he didn't care what happened to him.

"Sean, I think I'm going to head back to Joey's," Craig slurred to his friend after he found him in the crowd.

"Oh. Well, I'll head out then too," Sean agreed.

"Are you sure? If you are having a good time…"

"Nah, I'm over this," Sean said and glanced around for Jay. He hadn't seen him or the other guys they had hitched a ride with. "Let's go outside and see if Jay's friend's car is still here."

"Yeah. Air would be good. There's not enough air in here."

"Right…" Sean shrugged at his drunken friend. They picked the right moment to exit the party, Sean realized when he saw Craig sink down onto the curb. He looked away once he heard the sounds of vomiting.

"Feel better?" He questioned when he heard the heaves stop.

"Yeah," Craig mumbled and made a weak attempt to get onto his feet. He felt Sean take a hold of him and yank him up. He hoped that the spinning lights wouldn't make him barf again.

"Good because I'm pretty sure that Jay and his friends ditched us and I don't want you puking on the bus."

While they waited at the stop Craig couldn't help but think. It almost made him want to head back to the party and down a few more. This just had to stop.

"I think I might've made a mistake tonight," Craig mumbled to Sean.

"Yeah, you are going to have a headache as a reminder tomorrow too. Geez, do you have any gum? You reek."

"No I mean…Joey's going to be pissed. I don't know what he's going to do. I don't know why I can't do anything right."

"I can come in with you," Sean offered.

"No. It'll be fine. He's not my dad," Craig mumbled as he realized that Joey wasn't like his father. "I thought that he would've called over Thanksgiving."

"Who?"

"My dad. I mean I know why he didn't. Of course he wouldn't. Why would he?" Craig rambled out of intoxication. He ran a hand over his face and noticed that his palms were sweaty despite the cold. Actually he was rather warm. He unzipped his coat.

"Oh yeah, you don't live with him anymore, right?"

"That's right. So of course he wouldn't call."

"I didn't talk to mine over the holiday break either," Sean shrugged.

Craig met his friend's eyes. "Why don't you live with them?"

"It's just easier at my brother's."

"Did they hit you?"

"Nah, they were too drunk to do that."

"Oh," Craig mumbled and stared off into the night for a moment. "You never asked me what happened."

"Excuse me?"

"Why I'm at Joey's now…where I was when I missed all that school."

"It's not any of my business."

"If I tell you something can we pretend I never did?"

"You probably won't remember."

"I hope not," Craig slurred. Then he blurted it out, "I was in the hospital. Cause of my dad."

"What the hell did he do to you?!" Sean couldn't help but exclaim.

"Oh no, he didn't…um, I mean, it wasn't cause of that really. I oded on pills. Cause things were sort of nuts at my dad's."

"Oh. The same shit you were taking tonight?"

"Yeah. Yeah…tonight was a mistake. I'm not trying to kill myself."

"Good to know."

Craig suddenly shot up and began pacing. "You have no idea…how much I just…want this to stop."

Craig was a moody drunk, Sean realized. He stood up and carefully watched his friend. He watched Craig slap his hand against the glass of the bus stop shelter. "Just stop…" he heard Craig mutter. When Craig finally looked back at him he could see tears in his eyes. "I can't think right."

"Just settle down. It's the booze, Craig."

"It's supposed to slow everything now, not make it so crazy like this!"

"I think I see the bus, Craig. Just pull it together, okay? You're heading home and then you can just sleep it off."

"Sometimes it's so hard to sleep," Craig mumbled in response as they boarded the bus. Sean kept a hand underneath Craig's elbow and steered them towards an empty seat. He was thankful the driver, who looked like he hadn't had the will to live in hours, was completely disinterested in them. Sean was even more grateful that Craig, who claimed he had trouble sleeping, passed out on the ride home.

Sean woke him up a few stops before theirs, worried that that would be a battle. But it wasn't a struggle and Craig seemed a bit more sober. As they walked down the street to Craig and Joey's, Sean noted that Craig seemed a little less sloppy.

He stopped Craig a few houses down from Joey's. "Okay…just go inside and say you are tired. Go straight up to your room. Don't say too much. Just go upstairs, okay?"

Craig nodded and continued walking, happy with this plan. At the moment he just didn't care.

"You sure you are going to be okay?" Sean called out.

"I'm fine. I'll talk to you later."

Sean watched Craig fumble the doorknob and disappeared into the house. He could see the downstairs was still lit. Joey must be waiting up for him.

"You are so screwed," Sean whispered. He waited a few moments before turning away and heading home.

Craig tried to enter the house unnoticed but that was blown when he tripped over a ripple in the rug and stumbled into the wall. He steadied himself and watched as Joey came out from the kitchen,

"Where were you?" Joey asked as he quickly approached Craig.

Craig looked at Joey and then saw Simpson standing off in the living room. He briefly flashed back to the night when he came here, desperate with a stomach full of enough painkillers to kill him.

"I'm really tired," Craig said and turned for the stairs. "I'm going to go upstairs…go to bed."

Joey touched Craig's shoulder, "No, I think we need to talk."

Craig slowly turned around to face his stepfather. He tried not to breath on Joey and struggled to sober up his drunk Jell-O body. Craig searched his mind for something to say. Joey recognized the signs immediately. Hell, he smelled the liquor half way across the room. He wasn't even sure how to react. Just make sure that he's okay, Joey urged himself.

"Have you been drinking? Did you take something?"

"That's not important," Craig tried to dismiss.

"Tell me what you took. Do I need to take you to the hospital?"

"What is your problem? I'm fine. I just took one, so chill out. Everyone acts like I have some kind of death wish but I know what I'm doing. And I'm fine, just took one hours ago."

"One of what? You've obviously had more than one drink. Don't lie to me, Craig."

"I'm not lying! I took a painkiller. I feel fine. So stop it with talking about the hospital. That's the last thing I want to think about right now." Craig had no idea why he just confessed about the pills, other than it was nagging on his conscious.

"Okay. But you've been drinking."

Craig could only stare at Joey and shrug. What did he want him to say? Joey just shook his head in return, thinking about all that worrying he had done. He couldn't help but feel hurt that Craig had deliberately skipped out of school and stayed out late despite that he knew he would worry people. "Head on up to bed then," Joey declared. Craig could hear the disappointment in his voice. He watched as his stepfather headed into the kitchen. Craig found himself following.

"You're angry at me," Craig stated but it came out as more of a question. Joey had never been angry at him. He couldn't help but be curious of the situation.

"Craig, let's not get into this tonight. We'll talk tomorrow morning."

"No," Craig said. Then he repeated more forcefully. "No. I want to talk about this now. I know what's going to come up. Sauvé and counseling and my dad and cutting and blah blah blah. Can't we just deal with it now so I don't have to tomorrow?"

"You are in no condition to talk right now," Joey tried.

Craig stared at Joey for a few moments and then turned away. He took a few steps and stumbled. He looked over to find that Simpson had steadied him.

"Oh wow…you know what this reminds me of? That night…remember that night when I took all those pills and I was falling all over you guys and puking on the floor?"

"I remember that night, yes."

"Yeah…me too. But you know what? It seems so much better when I'm like this. It's like it was just what happened, you know? It happened and it doesn't matter cause it's in the past. And it's like that with my dad too right now. I could sit here and tell you guys about it. How he'd hit me. That's how good this feels right now. This is how it should be in therapy. I should get to feel like this so I could talk about it."

The adults stared at Craig.

"You don't know how much it sucks," Craig mumbled once he noticed the silence and their expressions.

Joey stared down at the floor. Just when he thought that Craig was making some progress, this had to happen.

"And you," Craig said and drunkenly pointed a finger at Simpson, "Why are you always here when something like this happens? You aren't supposed to know any of this!"

"Craig," Simpson wanted to try to get Craig to stop talking before he said anything else he'd regret later. "Want to go watch some TV or something?"

"No…don't go being all nice. Don't be all nice about it. You know what happened," Craig grabbed a glass off the table and threw it at the wall.

Craig then began to push everything off the kitchen table. He turned around; breathing heavy, and looking for more things he could throw or push to the floor. Joey quickly approached him from behind and grabbed him, "Craig, calm down. It's Joey. Calm down, I got you."

Craig only struggled against Joey for a few seconds, and then began to settle down. Joey kept a firm grip on Craig's arms. "Take it easy, Craig," Joey soothed. Craig was rigid in Joey's arms, and then Joey felt Craig sink back against him. "Take it easy, Craig," Joey repeated. "It's okay."

"Please…let go of me," Craig mumbled.

"Have you calmed down? Are you going to throw anything else? I can't have you doing that. Angie's in bed. She'll be scared if you do that."

"Angie…oh my God…I'm sorry. No…I'm not going to do that," Craig said softly.

Joey released Craig and watched him slowly back away from him. Craig ran a hand through his hair and looked at what he had done. He looked at what he had pushed off the table; some broken dishes, remains of leftover pizza, and some magazines and papers lay on the floor.

"I'll clean this up," Craig said and bent down and gathered up some of the papers.

"No, Craig, it's fine. Let me do it," Joey said.

"I'm not…like this ever," Craig mumbled to Joey.

"I know. Just head up to bed and sleep it off, Craig."

"Come on, Craig," Simpson encouraged and eased Craig up off the floor. Craig jerked out of his grasp once he was on his feet.

"I'm fine," he snapped and began to make his way out of the kitchen and into the living room.

Craig stumbled and reached for the bookshelf to steady himself. In slow motion, he watched a framed photograph of him, his mother, and baby Angie fall to the floor. He barely heard the glass shatter. He only knew it from the glass shards on the hardwood floor. He stood there and stared down at their smiling faces. Things were so different now. All of it could have been different if his mother was still here.

"I've got it, Craig," Joey said and kneeled down to pick up the large shards.

"My mom never drank," Craig mumbled as he recalled how he'd only see a glass of wine in her hand during the holidays.

Joey glanced up at Craig. "Just head up to bed."

"Joey…sometimes I don't care what happens to me. I realized that tonight. I mean, if my mom was still here I could probably care. Just cause I wouldn't want to hurt her. I know she'd be so upset over all this, what I am now. But she's not here!"

Joey stood up so he could look Craig in the eyes. He gently touched Craig's arm. "Just sleep it off. You'll feel better in the morning."

Craig gave a feeble nod in reply and made his way towards the stairs, weaving slightly as he walked. Once in his room, he didn't bother turning down the bed or undressing. He flopped down and watched the room spin until it faded to black.

* * *

The first time Joey checked on his stepson, he didn't enter the room. He could hear Craig drunk crying. He wasn't sure if the teen was asleep or awake and didn't want to find out because the last thing he was ready for was another confrontation. Despite that he was exhausted, he couldn't sleep. He found himself creeping out into the hall and pausing by Craig's door. He kept it cracked open so he could peek in and listen for the sound of the Craig breathing. Once he was certain that they were in the clear, he entered and set a bottle of water on the night table. That kid was going to be hurting in the morning. Before he shut off the light, his eyes rested on Craig's left wrist. The teenager had been cutting again. Joey watched as Craig slept for a few moments. Then he flicked out the light and silently exited. 

"I don't know how to help you," Joey said to himself as he laid in bed and waited for sleep.

* * *

Joey paused outside Craig's bedroom door. He wasn't sure exactly how to address this situation. If only Craig's actions were more innocent. If only he was a kid experimenting with alcohol for the first time. But he knew there was more going on than that and it frightened him. Craig completely bypassed wondering how it felt to be high or drunk and dived completely into wanting to be wasted so he could escape. He couldn't just order Craig up and out of bed so the teen could get a head start on the laundry, one of the many chores he'd be tackling this weekend. No, they were going to have to talk about what was going on in Craig's head first. He sighed and opened the door. 

"Craig," Joey greeted softly. He watched the boy shift ever so slightly but his eyes didn't open. "Craig," he tried again, this time a bit louder.

"Hmmm?" Craig murmured in response.

"We need to talk."

Craig managed to open his eyes and moaned at the bright light that slipped in through the window. He rubbed at his eyes, feeling as if his eye lids had been stuck to his eyeballs all night. It took a lot of effort, but he managed to sit up. He clutched his head briefly before accepting the glass of orange juice from his stepfather. He eagerly gulped it down, feeling like he'd just spent the night in the Sahara desert without any water.

"So what's going on?" Joey questioned.

Craig shrugged in response.

"Is the drinking and pill popping a new thing or a regular thing?"

Craig's forehead scrunched as he processed this information. How did Joey know about all that? It was slowly coming back to him now. "That was the only time I've ever done it."

"Do you have any idea how dangerous it was to mix those kind of pills with alcohol? Craig, they are both downers. They work to depress your system. You take too much and that's it, you stop breathing and your heart stops working."

"I was careful though! It's not like I took them with the alcohol."

"Are you really making an excuse for this?"

"No, but I want you to know that I'm not trying to hurt myself."

Joey could only shake his head. The whole situation felt like Craig's second chance. How many chances would this kid get before he seriously hurt himself?

"My dad took them. I think they mellowed him out," Craig explained.

"That's not what they are to be used for! Those pills are addictive. I don't know if your dad had a problem with them or not but that's not what they are supposed to be used for."

"Stuff like valium is. If it helps, why not?"

"Do you really believe that it helped your dad's situation any?"

"Joey, I can't do this. I can't…it's like I come up with a way to deal and you all just take it away. I can't cut, I can't drink, I can't take pills unless you all want me to take them. I really don't understand what the difference is either. What do you want me to do?"

Joey didn't even know where to begin with that statement. "I want you to start talking in therapy. Talk about whatever it is that's going through your head that makes you think that you have to do things that hurt yourself in order to cope."

"The pills don't hurt me any. My dad even gave them to me once," Craig explained, still desperate to downplay his mistakes.

"What? He gave them to you?"

"Yeah. It was after…" Craig couldn't finish.

Joey's mouth dropped. His father hurt him so bad that he had to dope him up on painkillers? "But then you took them because you were in physical pain?" he managed to question.

Craig couldn't meet Joey's eyes. He looked around the room at the posters on his walls, the pile of clothes in front of the closet, and then down at his lap. It was then that he remembered the cutting. Too many secrets, Craig thought to himself as he gave a good yank on his long sleeve in an effort to conceal the healing cuts. He glanced up and saw Joey's eyes fill with sad concern.

"I'm sorry. I'm just making excuses," Craig finally mumbled, his voice just barely above a whisper. He couldn't look at his stepfather. "I messed up…I'm sorry."

"Yes, you did mess up. You are grounded. Home, school, home and that's it."

Craig nodded, still avoiding Joey's gaze. So much worse would happen to him at his dad's house. Sometimes he wondered if being treated like that was something that a person like him needed. He was such a screw up. "This is so strange," Craig couldn't help but say.

"I know you are still having trouble adjusting to this. That's what Ms. Sauvé is there for. Please talk to her. Please…try."

"Did she call you and tell you about yesterday?" Craig looked up and saw that Joey looked confused.

"No. I got a message from the school secretary about your absence. Why would Ms. Sauvé call me?"

"Oh," Craig mumbled, a bit shocked. "Wow, I thought that she would tell you."

"I'm not sure what you are talking about Craig, but I think this just proves that you can trust her."

"Yeah maybe."

"But I'm sure she's going to bring this up. The school knows you skipped."

Craig sighed in response. He wished that his stepfather would just leave the room. He felt defeated and stupid. He knew he messed up, what more did Joey want? He stared down at his hands and listened to the uncomfortable silence.

"Craig, last night…something you said…I have to bring it up. It's got me worried about you, buddy. You said that sometimes you don't care what happens to you. That if your mom was here you'd care more."

Craig shrugged. "I don't remember that," he lied. "I was drunk."

Joey nodded. "Okay. But…look, I just want to make sure that you know how much Angie and I care about you. You are family to us. Angie needs her big brother. We need you. So just…please…_try_."

Craig couldn't find anything to say at first. "Okay. I'll try."


	12. Make Your Way Home

**Authors Note: **Uh, Happy Holidays guys. It's either an early or late present, depending on how you want to look at it. Hey, at least it's not June.

* * *

**12. Make Your Way Home**

"Craig, your dad's on the phone," Joey called up the stairs. Craig pounded down the stairs and snatched the phone. "Talk down here okay," Joey instructed. He got a quick nod from Craig and the teen settled down on the living room couch. Joey went into the kitchen and began folding the laundry.

Craig picked up a pillow on the couch, placed it in his lap, and wrapped his hand tightly around it. He'd been thinking about Christmas since Thanksgiving and still had no idea what to do. His first concern was that his father wouldn't even invite him over, which would be a fitting punishment for leaving him to live with Joey. But who cares? He didn't, right? He couldn't help but feel angry at how messed up and complicated all this was. He found it hard to focus on his father's voice as they made small talk. Then it came up.

"Do you have plans for Christmas?" Albert asked.

"Uh, I guess I'm doing whatever Joey and Angie are doing," Craig said and his eyes met with Joey's for a moment. Craig quickly looked away and tightened his grip on the pillow.

"Oh. Well, just know that you are always welcome here."

Craig couldn't help but smile at that. Then it faded. "Um, I thought that we were just supposed to get together in public. Or with your family."

"That's what I meant, Craigger. Don't you want to see your grandparents?"

"Sure! That would be awesome to see everyone again on Christmas," Craig said and then felt the doubt set in. He wondered how much they knew. "Do they ever ask about me?" Craig decided on saying even though what he really wanted to know was if his father was honest about their current living arrangements.

"Of course they do. They love you. Everyone asked about you at Thanksgiving."

"What did you say?" Craig heard his father sigh. "I'm sorry. I just…"

"You are aware that I'm not the one who decided that you couldn't live here anymore aren't you? That was your decision. Your doing. It's like you are still trying to punish me."

Craig flinched some. "No. I didn't mean it like that. I just…wanted to know if they know I'm at Joey's. I mean, if we're spending Christmas with them I need to know what to say, right?"

"I told them you spent thanksgiving at your boarding school."

Craig tried to ignore that this made his stomach ache some. "Okay," he said softly.

"I couldn't tell them where you were."

"I suppose not," Craig agreed and looked over at Joey, who had been alternating his gaze between the laundry and him. He struggled with a reason to hang up the phone. Craig could barely focus on his father, who was updating him on his extended family. His eyes widened when he saw Joey crossing across the room, laundry basket in hand.

"Craig, I need you to finish up your chores before dinner," Joey instructed, hoping his tone was loud enough to be heard over the phone. He hated to see Craig so tense and twitchy. He hoped Craig's short glances in his direction was his cue to interrupt the father and son phone conversation.

Craig almost sighed with relief. "Um, Dad, is it okay if I get back to you about Christmas. I mean…I have to talk to Joey and…" He found that he couldn't mention the social worker. That was just too strange.

"I'll take care of it, Craig. That's what I'm here for," Albert said. Craig noticed that his tone was curt. He had heard Joey.

"Okay, well, I'll talk to you later then. Um," Craig paused. He didn't know what to say. "Take care."

"It was nice talking to you again, Craig. I'll take care of everything for Christmas, including your presents. I'm sure you've had your eye on those digital cameras that are out now. I'll be in touch."

"Okay. Bye," Craig said and clicked off the phone. He exhaled heavily and then looked up at Joey. "That was weird."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Totally."

"Okay," Joey said cautiously. "I'll talk to Robert about Christmas plans okay?" Joey was thankful that they had the social worker as a wedge, keeping them apart so there wouldn't be any confrontations and more importantly, keep Craig safe.

"Well I don't have to worry about it yet do I?"

"Nothing to worry about Craig. I know you have mixed feelings about seeing him again. Just remember it'll always be your decision if you want to see him or not. You are in control, remember?" Joey reassured, thinking of advice he had heard the social worker give his stepson. "Anyway, tonight it'll be fun. Jeremiah festivities galore tonight. Tree trimming party!"

Craig made a face. "Oh I can hardly wait for the 80's tunes."

* * *

Craig was settled comfortably in an overstuffed armchair, one leg tucked under him and his camera in his lap. He pressed on the shutter release and let it randomly captured whatever activity. Sometimes he liked to be surprised what it would catch. The f-stop setting might be a little off, might make this happy tree trimming party a little ominous. Maybe Joey would be unrecognizable, just a blur as he hung another string of lights on the tree. One of his favorite photographs of his mother was one that he took at age nine, with a plastic kiddie camera. The result was that she was almost ghostly, passing from the living room to the kitchen in early morning light. It haunted him and pleased him all the same. He still had the negative and would often play with it when he was alone in the school's darkroom. It felt safe there, where he could just be lost in his memories of her but still distracted because he had to make a great print. 

He glanced up at the sound of Caitlin giggling as she and Joey made an attempt to untangle Christmas lights. Craig couldn't help but be interested in how Joey acted around Caitlin. There was something about the relationship that reminded him of how his stepfather was around his mom. He remembered how curious he had been when he'd visit as a child and see Joey interacting with his mom. Things were so different when he was around Joey. He never heard Joey belittle his mother. Or Caitlin. The jokes he made with Caitlin weren't at her expense. And Joey didn't have that intensity when he watched them, that intensity he knew he'd seen in his father. It was like his father was always waiting. He thought he was anticipating his next screw up. But Joey was different. He wasn't insulted if they missed the tail end of a story he was telling about work or displeased about things like empty cartons of milk left in the refrigerator.

Craig raised the camera to his face this time and brought Joey and Caitlin into focus before snapping the shot.

"Are you the paparazzi?" Caitlin asked him with a smile.

He twisted the lens to zoom in and snapped another shot, a grin on his face. After the shutter release he head her call out, "Now that's enough…why don't you go catch Snake or Spike in some embarrassing shot?" Craig watched Caitlin duck into the kitchen, "Dinner will be ready soon."

His eyes moved over the small gathering of Joey's friends. It was the usual crowd with their usual 80's new wave music, despite the holidays. He was still grounded, stuck spending another Friday with Joey and his friends. Loud music and in their jokes and goofing off he could see glimpses of how his stepfather and his friends were as teenagers. Sometimes he felt older than them; the age was in his heart though, not his head.

Craig's posture immediately stiffened as he heard the sound of silverware crashing to the floor.

"Sorry…sorry. You guys know me," Caitlin mumbled as she bent down to contain the mess.

Craig's eyes shot around the room. He saw Joey's lips move but couldn't hear what he said. His heart was pounding too hard and the blood was rushing to his head. He glanced at Simpson. Was he smiling? Why wasn't anyone upset? Upset about the noise, upset about the mistake. The silverware would have to be rewashed before they ate, things wouldn't be on time…

"Are you okay?" Joey asked and placed a hand on Craig's shoulder. He felt the boy flinch some.

Craig felt himself crashing down, the panic fading into embarrassment. Why was he acting like this? No one else was acting like something was wrong.

"Yeah. I'm fine," Craig reassured and forced a smile. He was always good at that, smiling just to smile. Smiles were a great way to gloss things over. They were used to hide secrets.

He was good at hiding things. That was how he was raised. With his family, it was all secrets. Even with his mother married to his father, it was all secrets. He recalled how his father had reduced her to tears before some big Christmas party for his coworkers. He couldn't even remember what she did wrong - of course she did something wrong, they always did something wrong. He just knew that he crept into the kitchen once he heard the yelling stop. He remember he wished that he would do something in those moments. But he always felt so damn frozen. He always felt that way when his father was angry. But none of that matter because she put on her best dress and was smiling for the guests at the party. He didn't know what else to do but do the same.

He could do the Christmas dinner with his dad and his family. It wouldn't be that bad. Things weren't ever that bad, he tried to tell himself. Just go with it and use whatever excuses he and his father could come up with to explain where he was over thanksgiving. He could make up fake stories about boarding school. The good thing with all this lying was that he could also lie about his biggest screw up last month when he came home trashed out of his mind. He could do this. He'd had plenty of practice pretending things were fine. He knew early on how to behave around his dad's coworkers, parents, extended family, or anyone else he felt had to impress. They were the Mannings. Successful doctor with his dedicated wife and son that had so much potential. Play the role. No one knew, no one ever knew any different.

Things were much less complicated here at Joey's, here in this moment. Craig couldn't help but be fascinated by how carefree things felt. It actually unnerved him a bit. He didn't know how to deal with that. How bizarre was that? Craig shifted his gaze to the floor; he wished he was normal.

* * *

With a sigh, Craig wandered downstairs, giving a good yank at his pajama bottoms. He wasn't surprised to find Joey still up. Joey glanced up from his lap top to see Craig silently digging through the fridge. 

"Can't sleep?" Joey questioned once Craig sat down at the table with a glass of milk in hand.

"Uh yeah…anxious for break I guess. What are you doing still up?"

"Ah, crunching numbers. I think I went a little overboard on Christmas presents."

"You have no idea how much I'm looking forward to playing with Angie's new Barbie dream house," Craig said, his tone tinted with sarcasm.

"Angie says you need to work on your Barbie skills or she's going shopping for a new playmate."

"I don't know what to do with a Barbie, Joey."

"That's not what your mom said. I remember her breaking out the family photos one night and there you were, five or so, playing Barbies with your cousins."

"You are making that up. I don't remember that!"

"You did. Except your idea of playing was taking all their clothes off and putting them in a jeep and they went road-tripping through the garden. Barbie's hair was a big mess."

"Sounds like fun."

"I think Angie would want a fashion show, not military Barbie."

"You play then."

"We'll make Caitlin do it. Apparently she has parties."

"Good. I don't like Barbies," Craig said with a smirk. It was quiet for a few moments, with Joey working on his laptop and Craig finishing his drink. Then he spoke up, "What's the story with you two? She's over here quite a bit."

"Story?"

"There's these weird under currents. I thought you were with that uhhh…what's her name…Tracy."

"Stacy. That didn't work out."

"I can't keep track of your girlfriends."

"There's nothing to keep track of really. But yes, I have history with Caitlin. We dated in high school. We were engaged actually."

"Wow, that's crazy to think about…I mean how differently things could've turned out."

"Well, things happen for a reason right?"

"I guess they do," Craig was anxious to change the subject. Thinking of his mother would just create another cycle of thinking and he knew that just meant trouble. "So…there's this winter dance at school on Friday. And I was just wondering…I mean you never did say how long I was grounded for. And Simpson is a chaperone I think."

Joey watched Craig and didn't say anything. The teen had been on his best behavior and his moods seemed to have improved. But he still wasn't convinced he could trust him. "No before or after parties, right?"

"Right. Come on, Joey. It's at school. You and your friends are fun and all, but I'm sick of the 80's music. You know, there's a lot of great music out there now and it's from you know, this decade," Craig joked with a smile. "Come on, just give in already."

* * *

Craig spotted Ashley and Sean in the crowded cafeteria and hurried over. He set down his lunch tray and declared, "So the winter dance…guess who's warden is letting him out of the big house?" 

"You are officially ungrounded? That's cool," Sean said.

"Yup. So you guys going?"

Ashley shrugged. "El and I talked about it. We might go, for awhile anyway. Might be lame."

"And you?" Craig asked Sean.

"It's seniors only."

"Oh yeah, junior."

"Rub it in why don't you?"

"Why don't you crash?"

Sean shrugged.

"Let's all meet up at my place tonight," Ashley encouraged. "Then we'll go to the dance."

"Fine, whatever," Sean said dismissively. "Tracker's probably going to kick me out of the apartment tonight anyway."

"You can spend the night at my place," Craig offered. "I think it'd be cool with Joey. It'll be holiday break and all."

"What are you doing for the holidays Craig?" Ashley brought up, curious.

"Oh, uh, Christmas Eve with my mom's side. Christmas day I'm with my dad's side, I guess. Joey and Angie are going to spend the day with his parents."

Sean and Ashley exchanged a look and then noticed the suspicion in Craig's eyes. They made sure to wipe any concern off their faces.

"Big get together at your dad's?" Ashley carefully asked after a moment.

"I think we're all meeting up at my grandparents. Whatever. It's kind of a drag, all this complicated family crap" Craig commented.

"Kind of reminds me of how I'd spend weekends with my Dad and then go back to my Mom's Sunday night. It was way awkward and tense. Holidays were even stranger. But you know, things are better now. Just give it time."

"Yeah, I guess. It's going to be awhile before it's even half ways normal though, Ash," Craig said and just let her steady gaze be response enough.

"Well, you can always come over and eat TV dinners with me and Tracker. His stoner buddies will probably be over. Fun times," Sean said as he stood up. "I've got to get over to the MI lab and finish up an assignment really quick. Really quick. So I'll see you guys tonight. Craig, get together after school?"

Craig nodded and gave a little wave. It was nice for things to go back to normal. "See ya after school."

"Later, Sean," Ashley said in her soft tone. Sean barely heard her over the noise of the caf. He gave her a small wave before heading off. Ashley shifted her attention back to her other friend. "I'm going to see you over break right?"

"Yeah, for sure. But…I'm not sure if I'll see you before Christmas…" Craig started and reached for his backpack. "if you have plans with the family or whatever so…" He continued as he fished through the mess in his bag and pulled out a gift. He watched her eyes light up and that was thank you enough.

"I didn't know we were exchanging gifts," She said quickly. "I didn't get you anything. I feel terrible."

"No, it's okay!" Craig optimistically reassured. "I got everyone something."

Ashley lowered her eyes some, feeling a little disappointed that she wasn't the only one he thought of. She ran her fingers over the ribbon on the present.

"Well, I didn't get Sean anything cause he said we weren't exchanging. So I just gave him my piece of chocolate cake here at lunch. Christmas has always been one of my favorite holidays…I like giving gifts."

Ashley sincerely smiled at that. "Should I wait?"

"Open it," Craig encouraged with a smile.

"Okay," Ashley agreed, still smiling. She delicately picked at the tape with her long nails and peeled away the paper. Craig watched as her smile grew once the mix CD and a journal were revealed. Ashley went for the CD first, staring at the CD art cover; it was a Craig Manning original. She could always pick his photographs out of the displays at school. Ashley flipped it over and glanced over the song listings. They were all familiar. Songs they listened to after school while hanging out in her bedroom, songs that they softly played over the phone during secret late night phone calls, songs they traded on the internet, songs they felt defined them. Then she shifted her attention to the journal; it seemed handmade, old, and delicate.

"Wow. Craig. Thank you."

"I know you like to write so…" Craig casually shrugged. "And the CD…"

Ashley nodded, touched. "I remember."

* * *

"So I'll let you in the east door," Craig plotted as the two boys walked. "I'm sure that everyone will be at the main entrance and then you are in. We'll meet up with Ashley and Ellie in the gym. 

"I've seen Ellie around before," Sean admitted. "She seems…smart…hard to talk to."

"Nah, she's cool. She's actually kind of quiet in a way. Real easy to be around. I usually just see her around Ash or sometimes she stops by in photography club to use the darkroom. She's never officially joined…the instructor's all 'don't you want to be in the yearbook club picture?' and Ellie's all 'yearbook pics are lame.'"

"Not a joiner huh? That's cool," Sean observed. "Why was she hanging around there?"

"I dunno…I think she works for the school newspaper."

"Oh. See, smart."

Craig rolled his eyes at that and was first to head up the Kerwin-Issacs sidewalk. "Whatever. I've got more important things on my mind…we're about to deal with Kate Kerwin."

"We have to deal with Ashley's mother?" Sean protested.

"Ashley's usually good at getting out the door quick," Craig reassured as he rang the doorbell.

Sean was thankful that this appeared to be true. Ashley and Ellie were quick to descend the stairs, leaving Craig only a moment or two to make small talk with Kate. Reassures came from Ashley as the girls pulled on their coats: it was a rare warm winter night, they didn't mind the walk or wait for the bus and yes, she'd be home on time. Then they were out the door and on their way, with Ellie by Ashley and Sean by Craig. That appeared to be the pattern in the foursome at the dance as well. Craig and Ashley were sandwiched in between the two. No one made an attempt for the dance floor until at least half way through the night. They mostly sat secluded in their little group on the bleachers, occasionally talking to other classmates.

Then Craig made his move during a slow song, "Ash, want to dance?"

And she agreed, leaning in some to give him her reply. Craig held her, feeling a little bit awkward. Was he doing this right? He could barely remember the dances his mother taught him when he was a little boy. Then he felt her move in a little closer and her fingers ran over the hair on the back of his head. He wasn't sure if that was an accident or not. Then he met her gaze.

They slowly broke apart when the song ended, standing there wondering what to do next. Craig glanced over at Ellie and Sean. They were talking now, it seemed. Craig wondered who broke the ice.

"He made her smile," Ashley commented once she followed Craig's gaze.

Craig and Ashley managed to sneak back onto the dance floor for a few more slow songs. Ashley pulled him to his feet and forced him out for her favorite rock song; he couldn't object to those blue eyes that he knew would stay fixed on him for most of the song.

"Last song of the night," the DJ called out and everyone in the gym began to filter to the floor. Craig took Ashley's hand this time and led her to the floor. He glanced over her shoulder and saw Sean gesture to the couples dancing and shrug at Ellie. She shrugged, nodded back, and took a place on the dance floor near Craig and Ashley.

They managed to extend their evening by walking the girls home. Along the way, Craig playfully tossed a snowball at Ashley and she waited to surprise an unsuspecting Craig by rubbing snow into his hair. He twitched and smiled as the cold water trickled down his neck and into his shirt. "Oh you are getting it," Craig declared to Ashley who was slowly backing away, a grin on her face. Then she let out a shriek and took off down the dark sidewalk.

Sean smiled at the sound of Ellie's laugh. He looked away from a moment, trying to collect his thoughts and say something that she would find interesting. He was interrupted by the sting of a snowball and the sound of her laughter and heavy boots pounding down the sidewalk. He leaned down to pick up a scoop of slushy snow and took off after the red head.

They found themselves hanging out on Ashley's front porch, talking and laughing. It was one of those unusually warm winter nights. It was still, the only sound in between conversation was the trickle of water that was dripping off the roof. The snow was melting. But tonight on the news Craig heard the weatherman say there was a storm brewing out east. They would be having a white Christmas. This was just the calm before the storm.

* * *

Craig began to pace some. He could spend Christmas with his father. It was one afternoon, one third of a day, only a few hours; what could happen? He began to flashback to previous holidays. He was always doing things to annoy his father. He didn't mean to of course but there was always something his father would disapprove of. Sometimes it seemed like the little things set him off the most. He couldn't do anything right and sometimes he was convinced his father hated him. Craig tapped his fingertips on the phone. Why would he think that? It was his father, his father didn't hate him. Maybe things weren't as bad as he sometimes thought they were. He remembered being spanked when he was little, now he was older and it had to hurt more. For a moment he felt the familiar ache and could almost see the bruises. 

Oh what was he doing? He was thinking too much about this. "It's okay. It's okay," he told himself out loud as he picked up the cordless phone and jogged up the stairs. He was going to have to do this before Joey got home. Joey just made things more strange and he just wanted things to go back to the way they were.

"Hey dad," Craig greeted once he heard his father's voice on the line. He cringed at how his voice was trembling.

"Craig! Hi! How are you?" Craig could sense that his father was smiling.

"Um, look, I was thinking and…" Craig paused for a moment. "I think I'd like to spend Christmas Eve with you, I mean, if that's okay with you."

"I'd really enjoy that. Hey look, I'm not going to pretend about how things are. I know that your social worker wants us to remain in a public situation but I think we know our family better than he does. You are safe with me. I'm your dad."

Craig hesitated. "You want it to be just us on Christmas?"

"If you want to go to your grandparents, that's fine too but it will probably be a small get together. It's getting harder and harder each year to get everyone together. They all have families of their own, in-laws. I just have you, Craigger."

"Things would be less stressful at your place, with it just being us," Craig agreed.

"It would be. I've missed you."

Craig listened to the sound of a car in the drive way. "Okay, so I better go. I'll let you know if anything changes but I think I can just have Joey drop me off."

"Okay, I can't wait to see you again."

"Yeah. Yeah! I better go," Craig said and hastily said a goodbye. He was anxious to cut him off before the "I love you, you are my son" happened. He didn't know what to say to that. But he wanted it all the same. But he had to get the phone back on the hook. Thankfully the goodbye was quick and luck was on his side. He slipped the phone back onto the set while Joey was busy in the kitchen, unbagging groceries.

"You need some help with that?" Craig called out.

"There's a couple more bags in the car. Thanks Craig," Joey replied.

Craig nodded and quickly retrieved the grocery bags. Once back in the kitchen he started unpacking them. He knew Joey's house well enough now to know where the cereal and pasta sauce would go. Hell, he even knew what brands to expect. This place was almost feeling like home, or some variation of home. Too bad he was going to have to go and make everything strange again.

"Joey, I need to talk to you about Christmas," Craig declared.

"What's up?"

"Um, I think I'm going to spend it at my dad's."

Joey was hesitant to reply. "I thought that he mentioned that you would all be getting together at your grandparents."

"Yeah. That's what I meant. I just meant with my dad, not at my dad's," Craig quickly added.

"Alright, buddy. I'll drop you off at your grandparents before Angie and I head over to my parents."

"No."

Joey placed a carton of eggs in the fridge and turned to look at Craig.

"Can't you just drop me off at my dad's? I don't want them asking questions, you know," Craig encouraged.

"Craig, you know the rules. You can't be alone with him."

"My aunt and her family will be there. We're all driving over together."

Joey clenched his jaw some. There was something about Craig's tone and how he had a quick answer to everything. "You know that we just have that rule to keep you safe."

"Joey if you come in, it's going to be way awkward. I mean…when you think about my mom…"

The teen did have a point, Joey realized. The whole exchange with Albert was going to be awkward enough as it was. "Okay, Craig. As long as your aunt and her family are going to be there."

"Yep, they are." Craig agreed and tried to ignore how his stomach hurt some.

* * *

Craig barely slept on Christmas Eve. And that wasn't because of excitement either. What if it was a mistake spending the day with his father? Oh what did it matter, he'd already made a mistake by saying he would. He couldn't back out of it now, that would make things worse. That would encourage a grudge his father could hold for quite some time. Maybe he'd bring it up again on his birthday this year or some random moment when he was seventeen. He would sure his dad would have the same bitterness and anger as if it was the day he cancelled their plans. 

No, he'd just go his dad's. Stick to their plan. Craig forced his eyes to close and as he drifted a little bit closer to sleep he found himself drifting off into his mind and began to create strange scenarios. Things got out of control at his dad's, Joey shows up, and intervenes. Or maybe he fights with father and takes off for Joey's, who is quick to take him away from the holiday activities and tells him that it'll be okay now, he doesn't have to see his father anymore. He couldn't get himself to imagine things going fine though. That seemed the scariest of all and he didn't even know why.

This carried on for awhile once he woke up in the morning as well. It seemed to numb him some even after he was up and out of bed. He felt a little like a bystander as he watched Joey race around. There was the preparing of some holiday dish he had to bring to the Christmas dinner, presents to be wrapped, Angie had to be persuaded to take a bath and get dressed into her best dress. Joey was stressed, Craig sensed. Craig could feel the tension building; he didn't like it. He mumbled something about having to wrap presents and ducked out into the garage. He took longer than necessary and when he reentered the house, things hadn't improved.

"Shit!" Joey snapped as he dropped the baking dish down on the counter. He tossed the over mitt into the sink and cranked open the window. "Well, we're going to be late now for sure. Weren't you going to help Angie wrap her presents?"

"Yeah, I had stuff to do first though. I can do it now," Craig explained as he kicked off his boots.

"It's done, Craig. That's what I was doing while this burned," Joey griped and gestured to the dish. He poked at it with a knife. "It's a goner. Another near miss with the fire department."

Craig sighed, "At least this finally feels like home, what with all the yelling."

Joey felt a tinge of sympathy break through his frantic frustration. "Craig…" Joey started. He watched as Craig's unblinking gaze broke from the window. Craig felt something shift inside of him, he realized something about Joey in that moment but couldn't pinpoint it. He just knew his heart felt heavier.

Angela stomped into the kitchen. "What is that smell? Are we ever going to Grandma's?"

"Yeah, really. Can we just get all this over with, please?" Craig added. He stalked out of the room adding, "You go to your family and I'll go to mine."

* * *

It was silent as Craig and Joey loaded the car. Craig wasn't sure why the silence. Maybe Joey was as fed up with this weird situation as he was and was just aching for something normal. When things are happy and normal, that was when you had to worry, he realized. Just a few days ago he was a school dance with his friends. Then things shifted. He should have known. Craig loaded up the last 2 gifts: they were addressed to his father. Craig recalled how it had pained him to scrawl "To dad, from Craig" on the label. At that thought he angrily slammed the door shut and climbed in. 

The car radio was playing Christmas songs but the closer they got to his fathers, the less he heard. His head was beginning to feel light. He watched as the snow along the side of the road grew brighter and sparkled more. Then he realized he was holding his breath. What was he doing? He couldn't do this.

"Can I spend Christmas with you and Angie instead?" Craig finally blurted out.

Joey quickly pulled over to the side of the road. He reached over and gave the kid's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Sure. Of course you can," he said with a smile.

"Are you sure that your family won't mind?"

Joey recalled how he told his mother to set a place for Craig just in case. He knew his stepson had been silently debating where he would spend the holidays. "They are going to be happy that you are joining us," Joey reassured. "Did you hear that Angie, Craig's coming to Grandma's with us!"

"Yay!" Angie cheered from the backseat.

Joey watched the color slowly return to Craig's cheeks. "Everyone was expecting you," he reassured.

The tension seemed to lift after that. Craig had even encouraged Angie to sing a Christmas carol and made her giggle with his own funny version. Craig was quiet again the second they were inside Joey's mother's house again though. He kept a hand on Craig's back, occasionally rubbing small circles, as he greeted relatives. Must be so strange for a kid not to be able to spend holidays they way they were used to, Joey thought to himself and then, out loud, stated that he and Craig were going to unload the presents.

Joey saw that his stepson immediately grew tense once he spied the gifts for his father in the trunk. He pulled them out and set them aside, "He's not going to get his presents now."

"Hey, don't worry about it. We can drop them off."

"I need to call him and let him know what happened. I don't even know what I'm going to say."

"Craig, don't worry about it. I can even call him if you want me to," Joey offered. "I can tell him that I said no and if he has a problem with it he can call Robert."

"No," Craig decided. "Well, yeah…maybe that would be better." His father couldn't possibly hate Joey anymore than he already did. Craig found a little comfort in knowing that his stepfather wasn't intimidated by his stepfather. The few people who saw his rage usually were. At the same time, he wished he didn't have to rely on people like Joey to do what he was afraid to do.

* * *

Craig gathered a few of the dishes and brought them out to the kitchen. He strained to smile at Joey's mother. He enjoyed being around his stepfather's family and no one had been anything less than polite to him but he just couldn't shake the awkwardness. I just want to go home, Craig thought to himself as he returned to the dining room. But where's home? With his father alone on Christmas because he was on call at the hospital? With his father's family, acting like his father hadn't relieved his tension by knocking him to the ground and kicking him just less than 48 hours ago? I just want to go home and I don't know where it is, Craig thought as he picked up a half empty wine glass. He glanced around and then quickly downed it once he knew he was totally alone. He followed this pattern as he finished clearing the table. He gulped down the red wine, hardly aware of the taste. Gulp, breath mints, kitchen. Once the table was cleared, he was fuller than ever and his head was light. But he was calm, even a little happier. 

Craig stayed close by Joey and Angie while relatives were busy cleaning up the kitchen. He acted like it was his duty to keep Angie entertained until it was time to open presents, but really he wasn't sure what to say to the rest of Joey's family. The awkwardness was heightened with the declaration that it was family picture time. Craig sincerely smiled as Angie moaned. "It's never going to be time to open presents," she whined and melodramatically flopped into Craig's lap.

"Soon, kiddo, soon," Craig reassured. He gave Angie a quick hug and then set her on her feet. He had to get out of their way. He wouldn't be in the pictures. Craig assumed that he would remain the outsider who operated all the cameras. Why would he be involved? So he declared that he was the amateur photographer and accepted the cameras that were handed to him. People shifted in and out of the frame, cousins, aunts, uncles…he knew they weren't his. He didn't know all their names. His eyes stayed on Joey and Angela while they exchanged places with another father and daughter. He wondered what it was like when his mother was here. Strange how things change. He began to brain storm up a good excuse to exit the room. Then his stepfather spoke, breaking him out of his thoughts.

"You are in this one, Craig," Joey declared and patted the empty space on the couch beside him. "You're family."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Okay, guys, now I'm blocked. I have an idea where I want this story to head in the long run. Some of it is already half way written (yes, Voices Carry and Tears Are Not Enough are big inspirations and you will get my spin on the situation. He's going to be hospitalized and his father is going to pass away but not until later cause hey it's interesting to keep Albert around to raise hell in Craig's life.). I'm struggling because I want this all to be spread out. I mean, ideally I wanted it all to happen over the course of like two or three years but I don't know how I'd ever do that. Suggestions? I also don't want it to seem like it's non-stop Craig drama so I'm kicking around ideas of different situations I could have him in all while developing his struggle with his inner demons. Is there an interest in reading about how his friends have problems and you basically get Craig's reaction to them? Like, say if I shuffle things around a bit and Ellie's mom's alcoholism is introduced earlier and her friends Sean, Ashley, and Craig are around to help? And my first intention was to have Ashley be a big player in this story but as it's progressing, it seems like Sean is definitely a lead. Are you feeling the Crash? I don't think I'll ever have this story be all about the ship. So um, yeah…I don't know…now's the time to voice your opinions. )

Title Credit: Lyrics from Juliana Hatfield's "Make It Home."


	13. An Anniversary and a Dinner

**13. An Anniversary and a Dinner**

There Craig was, waiting under the street lamp. Ashley had to wait until she knew her mother and stepfather were fast asleep before she crept out into the hall, pausing by Toby's door to listen to the continuous plunking away at computer keys. Toby had already caught her heading for the door once and was holding it over her. She'd take that risk again. It was these late night walks that could get her through the day. She craved them while they were on the phone, plotting and planning how they both would get out of the house. They had to get out, the cold wouldn't stop them. And it had to happen at night. Maybe it was the darkness. Something about it made them both feel more protected when confessing what was on their mind. The darkness and the continuous circling of their neighborhood blocks made things a little bit surreal. Surreal in a good sense though. It brought them away from the everyday. There was this new feeling. Like they actually were in control of all the crazy of high school and family drama and things actually made sense.

"You know what's weird…" Craig trailed off and when he looked over at Ashley he saw her steady gaze, those inviting curious blue eyes of hers. "It's just weird, when someone dies. How you go from seeing them everywhere even though they aren't here anymore to sort of…struggling to remember what they looked like."

"You can't remember what your mom looked like?"

"I can but it's just…strange. It feels faded. I feel bad about that."

"You don't have to feel bad. Time does that."

"It was the anniversary…is that the right word…of her death this week. I feel weird saying anniversary. Anniversary is supposed to be a celebration right?"

"I do that. Remember the days like that."

"Well, I made the mistake of like…trying to write about it. Like a song. Only I'd never say those words."

"Writing didn't help? I live in my journals. I write everything down."

"I don't know if it's like…releasing it. Shit I sound like Sauvé. Or if it's…sealing it in. I mean I can go back and read it later. I remember too much as it is."

"I thought you wanted to remember."

"Some things I do. Sometimes it's easier to forget though. It doesn't make sense, I know," Craig paused to sigh. "We're stopping by the cemetery tomorrow. Cause tomorrow…"

Ashley nodded. "I'll be around. We can get together with Sean and El if you want. Get your mind off it, if you need to."

* * *

Craig stared down at the ground, studying the patch below his feet where the white snow faded into the ugly dead grass. He noticed the dirt that was caking onto his boots and how his toes were still a bit numb from the cold. He had to keep focusing on these little things to keep from thinking. He refused to let his gaze shift to the stone tombstone. Craig hated this moment, that moment of silence where they were supposed to remember their loved one who was no longer with them. He didn't know what to think about in this moment. He knew what he was supposed to be thinking about. He was supposed to be remembering his mother, keeping the memory alive. He could do it alone, on any other day. But not today. He didn't want to break down in front of Joey and Angela.

He glanced over at Joey. Joey was remembering; Craig could tell by the tears that were glistening in his stepfather's eyes. Craig felt Angie slipping her hand into his. He gave her tiny hand a squeeze before meeting her gaze. He could see concern in her eyes. She must not fully understand this situation and didn't feel what they were feeling. He wasn't sure what was worse, not remembering Mom or struggling to remember without the ache of loss. Instinctively, Craig kneeled down to be closer to his little sister, wrapped an arm around her, and pulled her close. He rested his cheek against her curly brown hair. The sensation acted as a sort of pinprick, waking up his brain. Her hair was exactly like his mothers, right down to the texture. It was amazing how she lived on in Angie. Sometimes he'd see it and other days it was a surprise like this. Craig quickly rubbed his eyes, chasing away a tear before it could fall. He could keep it together.

Hold it together just like you did at her funeral, Craig told himself. He hated that day. He hated the people who encouraged him to grieve. He would not cry in front of these people, all their relatives and some of his friends from school. Craig remembered how he sat with his father during the service. His father was just as composed as he was, still as a statue. He remembered how he was somewhat surprised that his father would be attending. Wasn't that one of the times when he should take a stand against his mother? But there his father was, right by his side at the funeral. He was there for him, Craig had realized and softened some. He felt comfort as he felt his father's hand on his shoulder as they watched the coffin be lowered into the ground. Had his dad finally retired from this battle with Joey and his mom, he wondered at the time. Now he knew better. They were never going to really move on from the past. It just stayed in their minds, haunting them.

* * *

Things would return to normal after that, Craig had hoped. But the days just felt long and forced. They had to keep carrying out the day to day activities. There was still work and school, bills and essays for classes. They had to keep on living. Joey seemed to realize this sooner and announced that he was going out on Friday night. Blind date he explained and Craig didn't give much a reaction. He simply nodded and that was his non verbal agreement to baby sit. Craig didn't mind. He didn't feel much like going out and was actually looking forward to the quiet once Angie was in bed and he had the company of only the TV.

Joey arrived home to find Craig slouched over on the couch. He tossed his coat onto an armchair and sank down next to his stepson. "Thanks for babysitting tonight," Joey said, breaking the silence.

"No problem. We had fun. Kitchen is a disaster though, sorry about that."

Joey smiled and nodded. Dishes could wait until the morning. He watched as the TV screen flickered from one late night TV show to another. Craig was a master at channel surfing. He knew the exact moment when to switch back to his program of choice to avoid commercials.

"Joey…can we talk about my mom more often?" Craig finally blurted out and watched for a reaction. Joey seemed to go from confused to concerned and finally his features shifted into something warm, that familiar smile almost on his lips.

"Of course we can, buddy."

"I just…I don't know. Don't want us to forget her. I never could talk about her around my dad. I know he thought about her all the time though."

Joey just nodded at first, unsure of what to say. They both silently stared at the TV for a few moments. Joey was sure they both weren't seeing what was on the screen at all; they were just trying to be distracted. "It's been a rough week for us, hasn't it?"

"Yeah. Yeah it has." Craig was quick to notice how different their reactions were this week. Joey seemed down, more low-key. He'd blend in more with the background, a glass of wine in his hand and his eyes glazed over. But Craig? He missed her and felt sad too but there was something more burning inside him. He wanted to punch walls. Sometimes it scared him how much he was like his father. "Sometimes it feels like it's never going to stop hurting."

"Hey now…let's remember the good times," Joey declared and stood up. He crossed over to a bookshelf and pulled out two photo albums. He returned to Craig and handed one off. They flipped silently through the books for a few moments. "I think about her everyday too," Joey had to say. "I've been trying not to feel guilty about dating again."

"Oh no, I didn't mean to make it sound that way. I mean, you can date." Craig rambled.

"I know, Craig," Joey reassured. "It's just a little confusing sometimes…when you lose someone."

"Yeah. Yeah, it is. I want to forget, no not forget, just move on, so that it stops hurting but at the same time, I need to remember her," Craig sighed. His heart ached. "But that just reminds me of how I just want her here."

Joey gave Craig's shoulder a reassuring squeeze and then flipped the photo album page. Julia with a young Craig - post divorce. He could always detect that moment by their eyes. Julia's looked brighter. Craig's looked darker, older. But maybe his mind was just coloring the image. He now knew what probably went on behind closed doors. He wished he had seen the signs then.

"I know you probably didn't get to talk about mom with dad much?" Joey awkwardly said.

"No. He didn't like to talk about her," Craig said with a sigh. "I don't know if he hates her or loves her. I mean, he never…dated anyone else after the divorce. It kind of seems like he only loved her."

Joey looked down, feeling a bit guilty. Home-wrecker, he silently scolded himself.

"But there was this one time. He was seeing a co-worker from the hospital. But then he just broke it off. He was…" Craig couldn't finish. Craig recalled the night his father cancelled the date and stayed home with him. There was dinner, thick with tension. Then it happened. There was yelling, it always started with that. Sometimes things got worse. He shifted slightly as his body seemed to remember the stings of that damn belt. "He just got angry whenever he thought of her," Craig finished.

"We all grieve in different ways," was the only thing Joey could think of to say. He wanted to ask a million questions of course. What did he do to you? How often did it happen? How long did it go on for? Was he always this way? Did he hit your mom? Did she know how you were treated? But he knew he couldn't ask all those questions. He knew Craig well enough to know that he had to be careful when fishing around in this kid's past. He always sort of got this feeling that Craig was on the edge. He wasn't sure what would happen when he snapped, how far he would fall.

"He was at the cemetery the other day," Craig had to say.

Joey snapped back to attention. "What? Who was? Your dad? You saw your dad?"

"I saw him. I didn't talk to him though," Craig replied and thought about how he had lurked in the bushes. He had his camera and snapped a photograph of his father crouched down by her grave. The black and white film didn't capture the lush red roses. He always gave her red roses. Valentines day, anniversaries, her birthday…and then later as an apology when they would fight.

Joey was nodding rapidly, trying to assess this situation. They had been out of contact with Albert since Christmas. Joey recalled how quick and cool the telephone conversation was when he had informed Albert that Craig was spending the holidays with him and his family. His family. He could just about feel Albert's anger over the phone lines. Craig's with _his _family. That's right, you are losing your son now too, Joey thought angrily. Albert wasn't punished enough for what he did to Craig. During that Christmas day conversation, Joey had managed to keep his tone emotionless like it was a business deal. He did that for Craig's sake; that kid didn't need things to be anymore complex. What a bizarre situation this was, Joey thought to himself. It was screwed up, it honestly was. Anything but simple.

"I kind of want to see him again," Craig said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I mean…most of the time I hate him and stuff but…I want to see him again. Because what if he died? Left me like…"

"You don't have to worry about that," Joey tried to soothe. Robert, Craig's social worker, many times had expressed how Craig probably feared being abandon. "Your dad will always be your dad. He's going to try to be more involved in your life once…he starts feeling better."

"What's wrong with him, Joey? I mean…why…"

"I'm not sure why he's so angry," Joey decided on saying.

"No," Craig said, rather forcefully. He couldn't stop the argument that was forming in his head. "I don't think it was his fault. You know how I am. I needed that to happen sometimes. It's not all his fault. I didn't mean for all this to happen. I didn't mean to move out, to leave him like my mom…" Craig stopped and rubbed his temples. He looked over at Joey with a nervous smile. "I'm thinking too much, I'm sorry."

Joey reached to put his arm around Craig and then began to rub small circles on his back. "It's okay. It's good to be talking about this stuff."

"I don't want to upset you."

"I won't get upset over stuff like that."

"This is all just really confusing sometimes. Like, I don't know…where my family is. I mean, I like it here. I really do."

"Craig, you are family. Just because you aren't my son by blood doesn't mean that you aren't family. I decided a long time ago that you are family. You are stuck with me. Okay?"

"But my dad…"

"Dad is family too. You don't have to choose between us," Joey tried to reason. He wasn't sure if he could ever reverse that lesson that Albert had taught Craig.

Craig sighed. "I think I need to see him again. Do you think he wants to see me?"

"I'm sure he does. Maybe you guys can catch a movie or something. Grab a bite to eat. I'll talk to your social worker, okay?"

Craig nodded slowly. "Okay. If you think it's okay."

"I think it's okay."

Craig stared at the TV for a few minutes then stood up, declaring, "Angie wore me out tonight. Think I'll head up to bed."

"Alright. Goodnight, Craig," Joey called out as Craig slowly headed for the stairs. He heard him pause.

"Joey?"

"Yep?"

"Thank you…sometimes you just make everything so much simpler," Craig said. "Did that come out right?"

Joey turned his head to look at his stepson, "It came out right," he said with a smile.

* * *

Craig smiled at the store clerk as she handed him the plastic bag. He glanced over at his father as they began to exit the door together. Craig peaked into the bag and glanced over the selection of CD's and DVD's. "Thanks for these," he sincerely said and held up the bag.

"No problem, Craigger," Albert was quick to say.

Out of the corner of his eye, Craig saw that he was reaching for him but then pulled his hand away at the last moment. He was feeling the anxiety returning. It wasn't that he thought that he was going to strike him. He wouldn't here in public, that was a given. It was something else that was making him uneasy. He wasn't sure if he was prepared for how well things were going. He managed to keep his dad and Joey from interacting by giving spying his dad in the distance and quickly excusing himself from him and Angie. It would be fine, Craig had told his stepdad. And it was. It was a visit to all his favorite stores. Craig felt strange accepting all the gifts, but at the same time, it felt normal. This was how he knew his dad cared, this was the good kind of attention.

"Do you need any new clothes? Anything for school?" Craig heard his father ask.

"Ah, no. I think I'm good. You don't have to send that extra money every month, you know."

"You're my son. I want to make sure you are taken care of."

Craig smiled sincerely at his father, but didn't let his eyes stay on his face very long. Why did he feel so nervous? "Do you think it's too early to eat dinner?"

"Are you hungry?"

Craig stated that he was, even though food was the last thing on his mind. He just wanted to speed this up a bit. He hoped that wasn't obvious. It was strange how he missed his father but never wanted to see him again all at the same time.

He knew which restaurant in the mall his father would pick, the most upscale one there was. Craig had hoped for the casual bar and grill, the one with the loud music blaring. That might be less awkward. He could listen to the rock music and watch the families around him. Craig wasn't sure he was ready for the conversation that would happen.

"Are you still into the photography?" Albert asked during dinner.

"Yep, still in photography club. My instructor was encouraging me to do this student show the other week. I went out and took a few shots the other day," Craig took a sip of water to pause. Should he mention that he saw his dad at the cemetery? Was it safe to talk about Mom? "I'm still not sure what I want to use for the show though."

"You'll have to let me know when the show is up."

Craig nodded. "Sure. I should've brought some of my prints with me today to show you."

"I would have enjoyed seeing what you are working on. So….have you made anymore friends? Anyone from photography club?"

"Um, a few people. I mostly just hang out with the kids in my class though. And Sean. There's some guys forming a band. I'm thinking about doing that. Joey said we could use his garage if we clean it out this spring," Craig tightened his grip around his fork. Did he say too much? Would he even be around Joey's for the summer? It was strange how he didn't know where he would be.

"A garage band? Just don't let it interfere with your school work. Your marks are so important."

"Oh I won't. It's just for fun. I need something to do this summer."

"I know of a few summer programs I could get you referred to."

"School? In the summer?"

"For photography. Or music, if you want," Albert encouraged.

"Maybe," Craig agreed. He wasn't sure why he had decided to mention the band he and Spinner, Marco, and Jimmy would anxiously discuss before and after class. He knew his dad wouldn't be into a garage band. It was one thing sending him off to some music camp for piano, but it was another thing if he knew that Craig had picked up guitar from his camp counselor. Maybe his dad wouldn't care. Maybe he'd be happy he was having fun. Then again maybe he'd think it was a waste of time. Craig didn't think he could deal with his father being disappointed though. That disappointment seemed so familiar. Don't think about, Craig scolded himself, this is going good.

"I got an 'A' on my last essay in English," Craig announced.

"That's great, Craig. You always were great in English and art. How's science and math going for you?"

"Still not my best subjects," Craig admitted.

"I'm here, if you ever need some help from your old science study partner."

"Maybe. I'm not too worried yet. But around finals, I might be."

"Just know that I'm here for you. If you need anything."

Craig didn't say anything at first. "I know. I'm sorry about Christmas…Dad," it was a surprise how easily that came out. Then was the wait. It felt like five minutes even though only a mere five seconds had probably passed. Was he clenching his jaw? Craig hated it when his father would grind his teeth. That was not a good sign.

"It's alright. We should have gotten in contact before then, talked things out more," Albert choose his words carefully.

"Yeah. Yeah. This is good, that we are talking more."

"I hope that we can visit like this more often. I've missed you, Craigger."

Craig couldn't help but grin at that. He watched the waitress set a check on the table. "Thanks for dinner. And the shopping. Thanks for today."

"No problem. I really enjoyed today. I'm glad that you did as well. We'll have to set up many more appointments for dinner. And soon you can be back at home. First dinner back at home will have to be roast beef, your favorite," Albert said with a smile.

"When…do you think…that will be?" Craig felt strange asking that question.

"I'm not sure, exactly. But I think this visit was the step in the right direction. I'm sure that the last few months have been difficult for you. They have been for me. Things are going to change, Craigger. For the better."

* * *

**Author's note: **No more writer's block! I actually have a pretty good idea of the order of events now. Okay one more question for the readers: How do you feel about Craig, Ashley, Sean, and Ellie being a little bit wild? Doing some partying, all that teenage rebellion stuff? It'll give you lots of angst, I promise.


	14. End of Innocence

**14. End of Innocence**

"So…final exams are coming up. Math and Science, so not my best subjects. And uh, my dad mentioned that maybe we could have some tutoring sessions," Craig told his stepfather.

"At the library?" Joey questioned as he grabbed a lump of dirty clothes off the floor and dumped them into a laundry basket.

"Uh, I don't know. That'd be weird. Can't I just go to his house?"

"I think the rule is that you two have to meet up in public."

"Joey, this is ridiculous," Craig objected and followed Joey into Angela's room. He watched as Joey piled more clothes into the basket. "He's my dad. It's been so long. I'm sure things would be okay," Craig tried.

Joey sighed and counted to ten. The days had been longer than usual lately. There just weren't enough hours in the day to run the house and the business. He grabbed another dirty shirt off of Angela's bed and glanced over at Craig, who was as usual doing nothing to help. Dealing with Albert Manning was the last thing he wanted to do. "I'll talk it over with Robert okay?"

* * *

Craig gave Joey a small wave before heading up the sidewalk to his father's house. He knew his stepfather was trying hard to pretend that he approved of this situation. They just wouldn't let things be normal. He knew Sauvé and his social worker were going to be all over him about this newest visit with his dad. What they did together. How he felt about it. Why did everything have to be about how he felt anyway? Things were fine now. Whatever relationship he had with his father in the past it was, well, in the past. As Craig pressed the doorbell, he thought about the many times he'd see his dad interacting with his patients at the hospital. He was always so calm and collected as he reassured his patients that he had performed operations thousands of times. Albert Manning guarantees success. And his father's patients were always so comfortable around him; he could see their nervousness melt away with each of dad's tender words. He treated his patients that way and they weren't even related to him. If he could show so much concern and care for them, Craig was certain he could do the same for him. There was no reason to be nervous.

The front door opened and there he was. Craig forced a smile, "So, what do you know about the periodic table?"

Albert returned Craig's smile and gestured for him to enter the house, their home.

* * *

"Noble gasses: helium, neon, argon, krypton, radon, xenon." Craig recited. He was getting this science stuff. The way his father explained it always made more sense.

"Good. Defining characteristic?" Albert coached.

"Stability! Yes." Craig declared, excited with his progress. He was getting this! He took a sip of juice and set it down on the table.

"If only you could figure out what the coaster's for," Albert said, his tone full of sarcasm. Craig couldn't remember anything for the life of him. Staying at that used car salesman's house wasn't helping the situation any. He was sure Jeremiah was terrible at enforcing the rules. Rules that kids like Craig needed.

Craig sucked his breath in rapidly and it made a hissing noise. He didn't move, just sat and stared as he watched his father come at him quickly, ripping his belt off, and striking him. But Craig felt nothing. He blinked a few times. It wasn't real. His head felt light and he tried to tell himself to breathe.

"Craig? I just don't want rings on the table. It's not a big deal," Albert reassured. He watched Craig's entire demeanor shift in those few seconds. The sparkle in his son's eyes was gone and replaced with a watchful gaze. His body was tense. Albert turned away from a moment, trying techniques he learned at anger management. He was in control. He was in control, he repeated to himself. His son had nothing to be afraid of. Albert looked over at Craig again. He was still studying him, not blinking once. That kid thought he was angry. But he wasn't. When he was angry, Craig would know.

* * *

Craig sat by his bedroom window, tapping his fingertips against the glass. He jumped up when he saw his father's car pull into the driveway. Craig shot up and grabbed his coat off the bed. He already had his shoes on, ready to go. Anything to keep his father from ringing the bell and God forbid, coming inside and seeing Joey's house. Craig almost tripped over Angie's shoes at the foot of the stairs. Their place was still a disaster. His father would have a fit; it would be all the proof he needed that Joey's was unstable and his stepfather was a bad parent.

Craig pulled the front door open, waved to his dad. He held up his index finger and mouthed, "One minute," then ducked back inside.

"Joey?" Craig called out and headed into the kitchen. He could hear the water running; Joey was washing dried scrambled eggs out of a frying pan. Leftovers from breakfast this morning, Craig recalled. They barely had time to eat, much less do the dishes. Things were so crazy lately.

"I'm heading out now. Dinner with my dad," Craig explained.

"Okay, Craig," Joey agreed and looked over his stepson. He seemed calm. He wanted this. Craig would be okay. "Home by eight, alright? It's a school night."

Craig felt a burst of irritability. There his step dad goes, trying to be his father again. He had a father. "Finals finished up today. What if he wants to go catch a movie or something?"

"It's a school night, Craig. I know you are done with exams but…"

"You don't want me to go, do you? It's bad enough that my dad is always jealous about me living here but why do you have to be making this complicated too? I mean, I might be going to back to live with him soon."

Joey's mouth dropped slightly. He wasn't expecting that. If anything, he expected Craig to be more cautious when it came to returning home. Joey felt something else stirring up inside of him. Was it hurt? Jealousy? He had gotten used to having Craig around and nothing made him smile more than hearing that Craig won 3rd place in a photography show at school or how he'd reflect on the tender moment when they had bonded over their grief of Julia. Didn't moments like those matter to Craig? What about how he had spent time with Craig in the hospital? Maybe he was offended by that. Didn't Craig appreciate all that he had done for him? "Have you two been discussing when you plan on returning home? Because Robert…"

"Joey, do we have to talk about this now? I just want to keep things normal with my dad."

"Craig, is everything going okay with your dad?"

Craig alternated his gaze between the front door and his stepfather's face. Please don't come to the door, he silently pleaded with his father. "Yeah as okay that it can get, since we both are thinking about how weird things are with a social worker checking up on us. You all expect him to mess up, don't you?'

"No, I don't," Joey tried to reason. That wasn't true though. There was a part of him that wanted to check his stepson over for bruises every time he came back from a visit with Albert Manning. He remembered those horrible bruises on his stomach like he had just seen them yesterday.

"Right," Craig agreed, the doubt fully present in his voice. He listened to the sound of a car horn. "Look, I gotta go. Dad's waiting."

"Eight o'clock," Joey called out as his stepson exited the room.

"I hear you."

* * *

Craig stood outside the restaurant bathroom, leaning up against the wall and trying to tell himself to breath. He didn't want to go back to the dinner table. He picked up on his father's irritable mood the second he was in the car and listened to him lecture on punctuality on the whole ride to the restaurant. He kept his eyes on his lap and would occasionally nod. He noticed as they ordered that he was digging his fingernails into his hand. Craig ran his fingertips over the purple crescent moon creases in the palm of his right hand. He hadn't even felt it.

It's almost over, he told himself as he rounded the corner and headed back to his father's table. They just had to wait for the check and then it's time for him to head back to Joey's. Craig nearly melted into his chair when he saw that his father was signing the receipt. Say something, he told himself.

"Dinner was really good. Thanks Dad," Craig decided on saying.

"Hey, I have to make sure you get a decent meal every once in awhile. I bet you live on junk food at Joey's. Pizza and macaroni and cheese every night, I'm sure."

Craig shifted uncomfortably. "Um, some of the time. It's kinda stressful, sometimes, with Joey busy with the…" Craig paused and couldn't say it. He knew how much his father looked down on Joey's profession. "he's busy with work a lot of the time and I have school."

"So you end up reheating something that he tossed into the freezer?" Albert said in disbelief.

Craig shrugged. "I don't mind. Last week we got together with his parents and had a huge Sunday dinner." Shit, why did he say that? He knew his father would hate hearing how he interacted with Joey's parents. That was something that families did and he didn't want his father thinking that he was replacing him. He wasn't. He saw his father clench his jaw.

"You'd think that he could give you a well-balanced meal more often. That money I send him every month isn't for dinner dates or accessories for his car," Albert gripped.

"I'm sure it'll get better once it's summer. I can help out around the house more then."

Albert angrily shook his head as he pulled on his coat. "Sometimes I don't think that living situation is as stable that your social worker would like to believe."

Craig followed his father towards the door. He could barely keep up with his father's quick pace as he pushed through the patrons gathered at the front of the restaurant. It's almost over with, he told himself as they walked down the street.

Albert pulled his keys from his pockets and then stopped dead. "Shit!" he exclaimed.

Craig flinched and took a few steps backward. His heart sped up quickly. "What's wrong?" he managed to ask.

"Some punk keyed my car!" Albert furiously explained as he studied the scratch on the passenger door.

I have to get out of here, Craig heard in his head. It practically echoed. "Um, I think I'm going to walk home. It's a nice night," Craig tried. "Maybe I'll stop by Ashley's for a few."

"I thought we agreed that I would drop you off a Joey's at eight. Did you lie to me about that?"

"No. Uh, no, I didn't lie. I forgot. I'm sorry."

"How could you forget something like that?" Albert demanded. He watched Craig take two steps backward.

"Uh, I don't know. Look, I'll just walk home."

"It's dark out. I don't want you wandering around the streets in the dark. Get in the car, Craig."

"No, I just…it's not a big deal. Joey's is out of your way," Craig said and took a few steps away from his father.

"You want to go walking around at night by yourself? I don't think so. Get in the car."

"I can call Joey and have him come get me. I'm…just going to go inside and use the phone…" Craig tried.

"Come on, Craig, we've had a good night so far. Why do you…" Albert managed to get himself to stop speaking. He heard it all in his head though. Craig was deliberately trying to ruin their night.

Something was going to happen, Craig told himself. A part of him just wanted to take off running. His heart was pounding and he picked up his walking pace. "I…uh…I'm just going to walk home."

"Craig! Why are you acting this way?" Albert demanded as he followed his son.

Craig didn't reply, he just kept walking. It happened quick. Both of them were barely aware of the moment.

"Craig! Don't ignore me when I'm talking to you," Albert said and grabbed onto his son. He whirled Craig around so he was face to face with him and kept his grip firm. Everything was such a struggle with his son. He saw the fear in Craig's eyes. That only added to his anger. This kid had nothing to be afraid of.

"When I ask you to do something, you do it, understand? You might be trying to forget that I'm your father but I still am and you still have to listen to me," Albert snapped and gave his son a swift shake.

Craig felt like everything was crashing down, all the memories hitting him at once and every emotion was surging through him. It was just like that day in the darkroom, Craig thought and expected things to go further. And what was he to do? It was moments like this that he felt powerless, like the moment was having him instead of him having the moment. He opened his mouth but nothing came out.

Something inside Albert cooled down at a rapid pace. It was like flipping a switch.

Albert quickly released Craig and gently massaged his son's shoulders, as if that tender touch was his intention the whole time. "I didn't mean…I just had to get you to listen to me," Albert explained. A part of him wondered if Craig was intentionally trying to get a reaction out of him. He always wondered about that. The other part knew he took things too far.

"Come on, Craigger. Let's hit the camera store before I take you home, alright?"

* * *

He had taken advantage of Joey's generosity, Craig worried. He was getting too comfortable, slacking off with his chores. He had to make it up to his stepfather, remind him that he was worth keeping around. Craig scrubbed at the counter with a sponge and when he was satisfied, went to the cupboard. It was when he was setting the glasses on the table that he heard the front door.

"Daddy!" he heard Angie call out and it was when he was putting the forks out he saw Joey in the doorway.

"Hi," Craig greeted.

"Wow, Craig. Thanks," Joey said as he surveyed the spotless kitchen and noted the smell of pizza cooking in the oven.

"I know I haven't been helping out here as much as I should so…" Craig started and shrugged.

"It's been a busy week. I know you are stressed because of exams."

"Yeah. Finals. Lots of pressure. Look, I just wanted to do something to help. So that…you will still want me around."

"Of course I still want you around."

"I'm sorry about what I said. About wanting to go back to my dad's."

"He's your dad, of course you are going to feel that way."

"I don't really feel that way…anymore."

Joey was hesitant to reply and watched Craig. He wasn't meeting his gaze and seemed a little fidgety. "How was dinner last night?"

"It was good."

"That's good," Joey replied and tried to ignore how awkward this moment felt. He wished that his optimism about Craig's positive interactions with his father was sincere. "You guys hit the mall again?"

"Camera store right before it closed. Picked up a few filters for my camera," Craig replied, casually touched his pocket, and felt the wad of money. He returned them after school and got cash back. But Joey didn't have to know about that. "Look, uh, tomorrow night is the year end dance."

"That's right. Aruba theme? Are you meeting up with the gang?"

"Hawaiian theme. Um, we'll probably hang out some but I…uh…I asked Ashley." Craig blushed at Joey's huge grin. It was that moment that he was thankful that he didn't ask his stepfather for advice on that. Instead he just went for it and blurted it out as they were exiting the school together. To his surprise Ashley broke into a smile and agreed that they should go together.

"So you _finally_ asked Ashley out. I'm surprised this didn't happen months ago."

"I wasn't sure if…she wanted to be more than friends. Or if it was a good idea. She's one of my closest friends. I hope it doesn't get change."

"Oh it's going to change…for the better," Joey said with a wink.

* * *

Joey was right, things were changing. Craig actually felt like he and Ashley were there together, despite when they would join Sean and Ellie in the corner of the darkened gym. Ellie Nash dance? She had laughed at him when he inquired about them not hitting the dance floor. Craig was picking up on strange signals between his two friends and questioned Ashley about it.

"Are they here together?" he asked and felt her run her fingers through the hair on the back of his head.

Ashley shrugged her shoulders slightly. "Ellie doesn't talk about that kind of stuff. I think they are just friends. They just know each other through mutual friends you know…Alex…Jay…us. So they hang out a lot."

Craig glanced over Ashley's shoulder and watched Sean pass a flask back to Jay, who tucked it in his pocket. "Whatever, right? I'm glad that we came together?"

Ashley felt him pull her closer to him. "Thanks for the rose," Ashley thanked and recalled how she couldn't stop beaming when she opened the door to see him standing there, dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and one long stemmed rose in his hand. She was so caught up in the moment that she wasn't aware of her mother's watchful gaze.

The song slowly faded out and kids around them shifted places, some exiting the floor, some entering as a fast rock song blared from the speakers. "I'm going to go get some punch," Ashley said and leaned in close to Craig's ear. He could feel the electricity shoot through him. He wondered if he would have the guts to kiss her goodnight. Craig followed her off the dance floor but paused when he saw Jay and another boy heading for the door.

"I'll be right back," Craig explained. Once he watched Ashley nod, he headed for the school's exit.

He found Jay in the dark parking lot. He was rummaging around in the trunk of a car parked in the last row.

"Making arrangements for the after-party?" Craig asked. He watched as Jay jumped.

"Don't do that!" Jay growled.

"Sorry," Craig mumbled and watched the liquor exchange between Jay and another boy. After tucking away the pint, the boy hurried off. Craig lingered awkwardly next to Jay. Jay slammed the car trunk and looked over at him.

"Can I help you with something?" Jay said sarcastically.

"I know that we don't really talk to each other…"

Jay laughed. "Are you trying to ask me out or something Manning?"

"What?" Craig stared at him stupidly.

Jay rolled his eyes. "So you've never bought pot before, that's obvious. Just come out and say what you want. Your dealer is not your friend, we just chit chat to make it seem that way. It's actually a huge pain, having this fake friendship."

"You are very popular, I'm sure. Actually, I want some Oxy. Maybe some Xanax," Craig explained. He watched as Jay looked surprised and then it shifted into a knowing grin.

"Oh yeah, you are a pill head. Sean told me about how you blew chunks that one night. That's what you get for mixing them with alcohol, dumb ass."

"I'm not a pill head. Haven't popped any since that night. It's the end of school, I just want to have a little party."

"Party all you want. Look, I don't carry that shit."

Craig nervously glanced around the dark parking lot. He was starting to feel a bit panicked. He needed something. "Have any more alcohol?"

"That we can do. Hey, this one guy I know, Travis I think his name is. He's always swiping pills from his mom. Says she pops them like candy. I know I saw him around tonight. You interested?"

"Very," Craig said and pulled a few bills from his pocket. "Will this cover it for the alcohol?"

"And I thought we'd never be friends," Jay said with a smile.

* * *

"This has been incredible," Craig whispered into Ashley's ear. "This summer is going to be the best ever, I can feel it."

He pulled Ashley into a close hug and glanced into the window of Ashley's house to see if her mother or stepfather were checking up on them. Should he go for it and try to kiss her? Did she want him to? He could see her eyes sparkling in the dark. He could spend hours staring into them.

"This was my first dance where I had a date," Craig admitted. "I'm glad it was with you."

"You didn't ever go to any in junior high?"

"I was at a boarding school so…always around the guys."

"I'm really glad you came to Degrassi," Ashley said softly, bringing her face slightly closer to Craig's.

"Me too. It's kind of like things were meant to go this way," Craig agreed, his voice barely above a whisper.

They were quiet for a moment and then it happened. Craig was worried that his first kiss would be awkward or he wouldn't know what to do. But kissing this girl felt right and he knew just how much to part his lips and when to pull away.

"So you'll call me tomorrow?" Ashley asked when they broke apart.

"Yeah. Absolutely. This summer is going to be incredible," Craig said and watched Ashley slowly inch her way towards her front door.

"I had fun tonight," she said with a smile and watched as Craig picked his messenger bag off the porch. He'd been keeping that close him all night. "Goodnight Craig," Ashley said and then ducked into her house.

"Goodnight Ash," Craig echoed back and watched her smile and the door close.

As Craig walked away, he heard the pint of liquor shift in his bag. He instinctively checked his pocket for the small baggie of pills Travis had slipped into his hand in the boy's washroom. Craig smirked, feeling like he'd come up with some solution to all the chaos that was going on with his father and Joey. There would be no more hurt.

* * *

Something inside of Craig felt unsettled. He had to do something. Slow the stirring of thoughts, tame the intense emotions that sometimes scared him. So he brought the razorblade down through the white pill. He could take half and see what happened. He had the house to himself today.

This wasn't a long term solution. It was okay, Craig told himself. It was just how he was going to deal for the time being. What did Sauvé, Robert, or Joey know about what was in his head? He couldn't stand their questions or their advice. He knew this would bring on some stern lecture on the dangers of prescription drugs. He wasn't dumb, he knew that. The thing was that this was the only way he knew how to deal. It was just how he was going to cope right now.

Craig pulled a t-shirt out of a drawer and tossed it onto the bed. He opened another drawer, pulled out a pair of socks, and tucked the pill bottle inside. He nestled the rolled up sock deep into the drawer. There's no reason for Joey to find it, he reassured himself as he pulled his t-shirt on. It was then that he noticed the darkening bruises on his arms. He didn't remember his father gripping him that hard. Craig told himself to breathe. No one would have seen them. It's just bruising now. He would have noticed before.

"Shit," Craig mumbled to himself and went to his closet in search for a long sleeve shirt to throw on over his t-shirt. He noticed that his hands were shaking some as he yanked a flannel shirt off the hanger. Just another secret, he told himself as he pulled his shirt on to conceal the bruises.


	15. Plotting an Escape Route

**15. Plotting an Escape Route**

They needed a place that was all their own. Craig approached the metal fire escape ladder that ran up the side of Sean's apartment building. He didn't even bother to check Sean's apartment first. He could hear Ellie's laughter and Sean's voice. Ashley's soft tone never carried. The metal was hot from the summer and burned a little on his hands a little. But he continued to climb, feeling the late afternoon sun on the top of his head. On the warmest days, they'd hang out in Kate Kerwin's air conditioned living room and take the entertainment center from Toby and JT. There was always the mall, although Craig and Ashley never purchased any clothes because they had discovered the fine art of thrift store shopping: "I like shopping with you. You aren't afraid to try on things that will make you itch," Ashley had said about her boyfriend Craig. Joey's garage, now filled with band equipment, was out because the humidity and stench of moth balls was overwhelming. That was the band's place anyway. Jimmy wouldn't stand to be in the same room as Sean Cameron. Ashley would occasionally attend their band practices and on a rare occasion play on Joey's keyboard but she too mostly felt out of place because of the Jimmy Brooks marathon grudge. So it was obvious that Craig, Ashley, Sean, and Ellie needed their own hangout.

_They started in Sean's apartment. Sean's brother Tracker provided them with a case of cheap beer and the run of the house for the weekend. It took the boys ten minutes of persuading to get Tracker to include two packs of wine coolers. _

"_Ashley and Ellie don't drink beer," the teens whined, the summer had proven that their girlfriends weren't as straight edged as they assumed when they first met them in Degrassi's halls. _

_Tracker got a knowing smile and Craig knew it was time to move in for the kill, "I'll tip you, generously." _

"_You do not let this get out of hand. No Jay Hogart," Tracker warned. "I'm not coming home early to bail you out of jail, Sean." _

_Sean nodded rapidly. Tracker was still upset about the shoplifting incident at the music store. He waved his hand dismissively. "I've got it." _

_Sometimes it was strange when his brother seemed to take on a parent type role. The way he'd encourage him to use tips his social worker taught him to control his anger. The candid advice on girls. The concern about marks at school and how it was strange to have him at parent/teacher conferences. Of course it could be worse. He could have Ellie's drunk mother and lack of father, Craig's two dueling fathers, Ashley's three and one hell of a overprotective mother all forcing their way into the Media Immersion lab. Yeah, it wasn't so bad, especially when Tracker remembered he was the older brother and did as great older brothers should and took on the role of bootlegger. _

_So they had the beer and wine coolers for entertainment that warm summer night. Ellie brought over a few movies and they played it on Craig's DVD player, the most recent gift from his father. Ashley supplied the munchies, including a batch of chocolate chip cookies she made from scratch. _

"_You are amazing," Craig had gushed, his voice already a little slurred from the painkiller he had secretly popped before arriving at his buddy Sean's. _

_Somewhere around the second DVD, the group began to grow anxious. Sean and Craig complained that it was Ellie's choice in movies. But really Craig could feel the chemicals in his veins, giving him that burst of energy that he'd feel before starting to come down and nod out. _

"_Have you ever been on the roof of your apartment building?" Craig wondered aloud as they stood in the street, debating where to go._

"_No," Sean said and scratched his forehead. He watched Ellie wander off and Craig followed._

"_There's a fire escape ladder over here. It runs up to the roof," Ellie explained and grinned at Sean. "We like roofs remember?"_

"_Saturday detention never dies," Sean recalled warmly of the day when they became more than friends. It took a Saturday of them locked away from the world and a rooftop excursion to take it to the next level. "Okay, I'll get some flashlights."_

"_I'll grab a CD player," Ashley agreed, though her tone was uncertain. She hated heights. _

"_Well, we can't forget the beer," Craig chimed in._

And the remains of that night and many others were there now. At first they would bring only the bare minimal they needed for their get together on the roof and take it down soon after the sun would rise. But they were quick to learn that they had gone unnoticed. Sean claimed there was no tenant on the third floor besides for him and Tracker. So they slowly started to move in. A line of beer bottles followed the ledge of the building. Sean ran an extension cord from the window of his bedroom so they could plug in a CD player. Ashley and Ellie started to bring candles: thick stocky candles, long candles that rested in gothic ornamental holders, small votive candles. Craig suggested that one night they start a campfire but Sean refused, despite all of Craig's claims that he could keep it contained. Besides, that would attract attention and they didn't want the attention. They wanted to remain invisible.

It was where they went when things felt too tense at home. It wasn't unusual for one of them to make the climb up to the top of the roof and discover another friend already there. Ashley liked to retreat to the roof to escape her mother's watchful eye and slight criticism about her newest "phase." The gang found it normal to discover her there, a pile of books around her and an open journal or notebook. "Only Ashley Kerwin would do homework in the summer," Sean would joke.

Sean would escape to the roof when Tracker was being moody or wanted privacy with his girlfriend. He was always being banished from the apartment. It was nice to finally have some place to go, other than Craig or Jay's house. Now he didn't have to call to ask if he could come over; he'd just slip his Discman into his pocket and head to the roof. Sometimes he'd use the quickest route and use the fire escape ladder outside of Tracker's room.

Ellie sometimes used the roof for alone time. She needed to escape too, sometimes from her mother who was fond of secret drinking binges. She'd sit there, close to the edge, rocking back and forth and snapping her elastic rubber bracelets. Ellie never knew how much to tell her father when he returned home from his Canadian armed forces missions. She didn't want him to worry while he was away. She could keep everything under control. Once she was calm and her thoughts collected, she'd break out the small notebook and would start writing.

Craig often returned to the roof after his summer photography course. His father had insisted on driving him to and from the class. More often than not, Craig needed to separate himself from the awkwardness at Joey's once he arrived home. Things were fine. They were. He kept telling Joey that and repeating it in his head. The roof was for play as well though. Craig would bring stacks of photos and his art supplies to the roof and start to "mess around," as he called it.

Craig ripped the backing off the Polaroid and pressed it onto a sheet of paper. After a few moments, he went for his pastel and charcoal pencils. He looked over at Ashley. She lowered her book and he saw she was smiling.

"What?" he demanded playfully.

"Nothing. I just like to watch you while you work."

Craig continued to draw on the paper. "People in my photo class are like scared to play around with their photos. It's not all just point, shoot, and head into the darkroom."

"Maybe they are scared to try something they've never done before. I mean, when you've done the same thing for years, it can be hard," Ashley said and silently wondered if she just meant photo techniques.

"But they don't need to be scared," Craig said with a smile.

Ashley smiled back. There was something so inspiring about Craig. The way he was the survivor who smiled.

"Enough about me and my crazy ways. Tell me something about you that I don't know," Craig softly said, like he wanted her to confess a secret.

Ashley smiled. "What would that be? I think I've told you everything. Family melodrama, my strange grade 8 year."

"There's got to be something. Anything."

"I watch soap operas in the summer. I like it when a main character leaves and they replace it with another character and no one seems to notice."

Craig giggled. "I wish that would happen in real life."

"I wish real life was a musical. I think we'd all be happier if it were."

"Tell me more!"

"I like quotes. Quotes by my favorite authors, by actors, by people who's ideas I don't like. I have a journal filled with quotes," Ashley said after a moment of thought.

"I knew that," Craig said immediately.

"How?"

"I've seen you in Kwan's English class. I've seen the journal. Not what's in it but I know what it looks like," Craig said and gazed out into the sky. The sun was setting. He hoped Sean and Ellie would arrive soon and they could make it another memorable night.

* * *

Craig snapped a few pictures and then set his camera down on the ground in a place he hoped he or his friends wouldn't stumble into it. He gazed out at the cityscape. He was hanging out with what he felt was his crew – Sean, Ellie, and Ashley. He looked back and smiled at Ellie, who was holding a video camera, and Ashley who only had a wine cooler in hand.

"This has been the best summer ever!" Craig declared and grabbed onto Ashley, spinning her around. She laughed a bit and then broke away.

"Remember we're on a rooftop," Ashley softly said.

"Always playing it safe."

"Up here, yeah."

"Settle down," Sean urged to his buzzed friend. This was another one of the moments where Craig made him nervous. He noticed how Craig had taken a small white pill earlier. Sean doubted it was aspirin. He could only mention in a low tone in passing, "Easy on the booze. I don't want you to go out like Jimmy Hendrix." The message didn't seem to register with Craig as he just started rambling on about his favorite classic rock songs. So Sean's next attempt at avoiding a disaster was making sure Craig would munch on Doritos, hoping the chips would absorb some of the alcohol in his system.

"Take it easy," Sean encouraged again and patted the concrete in an attempt to get Craig to sit down. It made him nervous whenever Craig ventured close to the edge of the building. Craig hesitated and then sat down next to Sean. His foot wiggled with anticipation.

"Funny how downers make you up," Craig commented. He glanced over at Ellie, who had the camera still focused on him.

"Stop filming me," Craig said with a smile.

"You are the only one who's doing anything, you ham," Ellie stated, with a smile on her face.

He made a few faces at the camera and then said, "A man walks into the doctor's office and says 'Doctor, my friend thinks he's an orange!' And the doctor says, 'That sounds very dangerous. He should come see me. Where is he?' And the man says, 'He's here in my pocket."

Ashley sank down next to Craig and cuddled for a moment, "Robert Smith said that during some Cure concert. It's on a bootleg."

"I know Ms. Doom and Gloom. We have to listen to The Cure at least once a day."

"I'm coming out of the darkness, thanks to all that thrift store shopping. And you like The Cure."

"Yeah, okay, so it's a guilty pleasure."

"I bet if you didn't comb your hair for a few days, you'd look like Robert Smith."

Craig ran his fingers through his hair, "I think I need a hair cut. I feel like a troll doll."

"You just need some red lipstick," Ashley said and rummaged through her purse and produced a tube of lipstick.

"Don't even think about it."

Sean set his bottle of beer to the side and grabbed onto Craig, pinning him down on the ground. Ashley crawled on top of Craig, her legs wrapped around his stomach. "Just…hold still…" she said as she tried to smear on the lipstick. Between his laughing and jerking around, it was a messy job.

"Blackmail!" Ellie declared, camera in hand.

Sean released Craig, who sat up and looked around seemingly dazed. "You guys are jerks."

"Red is your color," Sean said with a laugh.

Craig grabbed onto Ashley and planted a kiss on her cheek, leaving a red smear of lipstick. He made a half hearted attempt at wiping his mouth.

"Nah, don't worry about it," Ellie chuckled, "Now it just looks like you got punched in the mouth."

"You! Shut up!" Craig said with a devious smile and pounced on the red head. He left a red lip print on her cheek as well.

"Hey, that's my girlfriend," Sean joked and pulled Craig off.

"Oh, you feel left out!" Craig said, his voice dripping with fake sympathy. He gave a fake pout, forcibly grabbed Sean's head to turn him towards him, and planted a kiss on his cheek.

"Dude, you are out of your mind," Sean said and gave Craig a playful shove.

Craig couldn't stop laughing. It was the kind where it made it hard to breathe and your mouth hurt because you were smiling so widely. The others couldn't help but join in.

Craig laughed until he felt his body going limp and numb. He was exhausted. He sighed, content with their games and sank down onto the cool concrete of the roof. He stared up at the sky and felt Ashley lay down beside him and nuzzle her head onto his shoulder. Sean was on the other side of him, he could feel his muscular arm next to his. He imagined that if he were to float up and look down on them, he'd see Ellie curled up beside Sean, her hand entwined with his. He wished they could stay like this forever.

* * *

"My photography teacher told me about this photographer the other day," Craig explained as he laid his prints out on the classroom table for Ashley to see. "Anselm Kiefer."

Ashley's eyes widened as she looked over Craig's work. Half the black and white photograph was visibly that, the contrast and brightness executed well in the darkroom. But the other half of it was almost unrecognizable as a landscape photograph because he had glued material onto the print and painted applied over it. But the straw that was glued onto the print reminded her of nature. So did the color of oil paint Craig had applied to the photo paper.

"It's almost not like a photo anymore. If it wasn't finished I would have thought it was a painting. This is amazing Craig," Ashley gushed.

Craig beamed and then shrugged. "Well, it's not like I'm being original. I mean, I swear I've totally copied what I see in the book. And I don't have like…reasons for it like he did."

"That's okay. It's how you learn."

"Mr. M gave me a bunch of other photo books to take home today," Craig said and reached for a stack of books.

"You are such the teacher's pet," Ashley said with a smile and glanced over the book covers.

"Nah, I think he gives me extra stuff to do cause I can't pay attention in class."

"Teacher's give you extra work when they think you can handle it. When you are more advanced. It's a compliment," Ashley said and wrapped her arms around Craig's waist.

Craig entertained that idea for a moment and slowly brought his lips to her lips. He was floating away. He didn't hear the classroom door open.

"Craig."

Craig hastily broke apart from Ashley. "Um, hi Dad," Craig greeted and brought his fingers up to his lips. He glanced over at Ashley, who was blushing a little and avoiding looking at either of them.

"This is Ashley. Ashley Kerwin," Craig introduced. "Uh, she's my girlfriend."

He watched as Albert made a few steps toward them, seeming only slightly warmer. Ashley was quick to put on a front though and smiled warmly at him. She extended her hand, "It's nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too," Albert said. Craig noticed how Albert's eyes moved over Ashley, taking in the thrift store clothes and the Kool-Aid red tint she had just put in her hair. Craig swallowed hard. He never picked up on any feelings like this when Ashley was at Joey's.

"Uh, um, I was just finishing up," Craig explained and gestured to the prints on the table. He watched as his father move closer to inspect his work. Craig's heart pounded. He could handle an art instructor who made girls cry better than he could handle his father looking at his work. He watched his father's face. But he looked as stoic as always. Did he approve?

"Um, I was looking at Anselm Kiefer's work lately. "He's a German artist. Uh," Craig found it hard to remember anything about the guy. And he had just given an oral presentation on him today. "He's pretty controversial."

Ashley noticed how Craig's cheeks were starting to flush. "Hey, Craig, I've got to take off. Need me to help you put these away?"

"Yeah. Thanks," Craig said and the two began to slowly move Craig's prints to the drying racks in the corner of the classroom.

"You doing okay?" she whispered and got a quick nod in return.

Ashley didn't know what to do other than help Craig gather up his art supplies and books. She walked with the father and son through the dark empty hallways of the school.

"It's such a strange feeling being in Degrassi in the summer," Ashley commented as they exited the school. She had to break the silence.

"That's because you aren't supposed to be in school in the summer," Craig said with a smile and then looked over at his father. "But it's been fun. Thanks for suggesting I take a photo class this summer, Dad."

"It's good to see you doing something with your time," was his father's response.

"Well, I'll talk to you later, Craig. Nice to meet you, Dr. Manning," Ashley said again and gave a little wave and headed in the opposite direction.

"Interesting girl," Albert observed.

Craig didn't like that tone. That tone meant disapproval. "Yeah, she is."

"I can't believe you didn't tell me about her before," Albert said as he got into the car.

Craig used the moment of putting his backpack into the backseat as a moment to try to collect himself. There had to be a correct answer to this. Craig slide into the passenger seat and as he was fastening his seat belt decided on saying, "We really just started dating."

Craig nervously alternated his gaze between the prints he had in his lap and his father. His dad would be so disappointed to know that he had gone to Joey for advice on how to know when to take the next step with Ashley. No wonder his father was always irritable, he was robbing him of moments like that.

"So was she just another reason why you can miss out on time with me? You know we don't have that much time together."

"Uh, no. Of course not. She just stopped by to see my prints. I was telling her about them last night."

"I don't think you appreciate our time together at all."

"That's not true," Craig protested as they reached the stop light.

"Hey," Albert barked. "Look at me."

Craig didn't want to. He kept staring straight ahead.

"I said look at me!"

Craig felt his father grip his chin and forcibly turn his head.

"You have such a problem with respect. I go through the process with your social worker of clearing time and as usual, you show blatant disregard for what I have to go through to see you. I don't think you even want to see me at all," Albert raved and gave Craig's head a quick shake.

"That's not true," Craig managed to repeat but was cut off by another shake. This one caused him to bite down on his lip.

At the site of the blood, Albert released him. The traffic light was green now and the car behind them gave a honk. The father and son remained quiet on the remainder of the drive to Joey's.

"Look, Craig," Albert started as he put the car into park. He watched as Craig stopped after he removed the seatbelt. He wasn't making a move for the door handle yet. "I'm sorry. Our time together is just so valuable to me."

Craig nodded and forced a smile. "Oh it is to me too. I just…some days I want to stay late to work. I know you want me to work hard."

"I do want you to work hard. You have so much potential. I don't want to see you waste it."

"I won't," Craig reassured and shifted the prints in his lap.

"Careful Craig. You'll get smudges on them."

Craig looked down at his lap. "Sorry, I'll be more careful." This whole moment felt too familiar to him. His father was glancing over the photos in his lap now.

"You didn't cut the mat very well," Albert had to mention. "Are you sure the black mat was a smart choice, it shows every dust particle."

Craig stared down at his lap. "Oh, uh, I'll re-cut it, maybe." His teacher hadn't made any comment on the mat.

Craig started to zone out, his father's voice fading away. He remembered being young, seven or eight, and would struggle with his math homework. He hated going to his father for help. He never could understand the math problems quick enough and his father didn't like it when he didn't understand his method of teaching. And there was the time he received a rather painful critique over his handwriting.

"Craig," Albert said and snapped his fingers. He watched his son look over at him.

"Sorry, I just got lost in my thoughts. Thinking about stuff I have to fix," Craig said. He noticed that his eyes were burning with the threat of tears. He hated himself at this moment. How pathetic was he? He prayed his father wouldn't notice.

"I'm just offering you suggestions. Don't be so sensitive."

"Yeah. Yeah! I know. I want everything to be perfect. And it will be for the final show that's at the end of summer."

"I just want you to live up to your potential," Albert stated. He couldn't help but add, "You certainly have some interesting ideas in your head lately."

Craig's posture tensed up at his father's sarcastic tone.

"From that girl trying too hard to be cool in her thrift clothes to the books you are reading lately. It was so much easier for me to monitor your activities when you were in my house. I hope you aren't getting the wrong ideas during this little experience you are having while staying at Joey's. You don't know how many nights I've stay awake worrying about…"

Craig tried to tune out his father's critique on his new life. He didn't know what to say or do. He longingly looked at Joey's front door and tried to pick up on the right moment to insist that he had to exit the car and go inside his stepfather's house.

* * *

Craig watched Joey run a hand over his bald head and look around the room like he was too frazzled to tackle the dinner preparations. Craig hated tense moments like this. Moments like this always had a terrible outcome at his dad's. It was strange how he could go from not thinking about things like that to remembering every detail. He had to know what to look for. Was Joey grinding his teeth? Were his fists clenched and neck muscles tight, so tight he knew that the man was about to snap? Was his gaze unblinking and fierce?

No. It was fine. Things were fine at Joey's. Remember how they spent last Saturday afternoon in the park. Caitlin offered up store-bought potato salad and he had been all smiles listening to joke about how after all these years, she still couldn't cook. Joey grilled the hotdogs while Craig had flown a dragon kite with Angie. Lemonade and green grass on their bare feet. There was just enough of a breeze to take away some of the heat of the summer. It was calm. It was good.

The beeping of the microwave interrupted Craig's attempts at keeping calm. He picked up a spoon and began to stir the casserole, checking to see if the temperature was right.

"Angie, settle down!" he heard Joey call out. Was it his usual tone that he had when he was giving out a warning?

Craig pulled the casserole dish out of the microwave oven and felt the burn. He glanced around for the nearest place to rest the dish and out of the corner of his eye saw Angie's glass of juice fall off the table and shatter on the floor.

Craig stood there, motionless. He wasn't sure of the order of events after that. He heard the sounds of Angie crying but it seemed to got softer as the blood rushed to his brain. He felt the hot dish burn but he didn't let go. The sting was better than what would happen if he dropped it. It was going to be pain either way. He wouldn't make a mistake. He wouldn't.

"Craig!" Joey exclaimed as he pulled his hand away from the painfully hot bowl. He moved quickly, yanking the pot holder off the stove, and taking the bowl out of Craig's hand. "Are you okay?"

Craig felt himself drifting out. He barely felt the sting and ache of his burnt hand. He watched as Joey took his hand, examining the redness and swelling starting to form. He felt his stepfather leading him over to the sink, then the sensation of cool water running over his palm.

Joey carefully looked over Craig's head and was relieved that blisters were not forming. As Joey gently blotted Craig's hand and applied an ointment to his palm, Craig looked around the kitchen. Things were coming back now, starting to make sense. There was the towel haphazardly tossed onto the grape juice and it still trickled onto the floor. Angie wasn't crying anymore, if her tears were ever sincere to start with.

"Craig, are you hurt?"

He could hear Angie now. What he didn't hear before was Joey soothing her as he mopped at the spilled juice. Did he actually think Joey's reaction would be like his father's?

"Angie, please go wash your hands," Joey instructed and Craig watched his sister creep out of the room.

"Why would you do that?" Joey couldn't help but ask. But his tone came out as more of an exclamation and he watched Craig flinch. He reached out and rubbed his stepson's shoulder and tried to ignore his slight cringe. What was going on with Craig? He was frightened? Of what? "It's okay. It's okay," Joey tried to soothe. "Why would you hold onto a hot dish like that?"

"Um, I'm not sure," Craig struggled to gather his thoughts. He didn't feel all there. "I think I was just remembering getting in a fight with my dad."

Craig met Joey's eyes and then quickly looked away. He couldn't stand the sadness and sympathy in his stepfather's eyes.

"What were you remembering? Did you think I was angry?"

"Angie's crying…I don't know what happened. Um, sort of I guess. It's just, if I dropped the dish, it could break. Or at the very least it would make noise and he hates noise. He hates stuff like that. And then…well, it's just easier to burn my hand."

Joey finished wrapping Craig's hand with gauze and watched him for a few moments. "Buddy, I think we've got to set up sessions with Ms. Sauvé. Or your social worker."

"No, Joey. Come on. I messed up, I'm sorry. Don't make me do that during my summer vacation." Craig was starting to feel panicked and a little angry. He had to get out of there. He started out into the living room and heard Joey following. He managed to get himself to stop by the stairs and turned to look at his stepfather.

"You didn't mess up. You didn't mess up," Joey reassured and knew now that was what Craig needed. "It won't be an intense thing. Just thing of it as maintenance. Things are going great, it'll be checking in with her. If anything you can go in and rant about washing cars down at the lot."

"Joey, please," Craig pleaded. "Look, I just get these weird moments. It happens."

"Counseling isn't punishment. If you still have those moments, it will help."

Craig grinded his teeth some. He almost felt the tears threaten and at the same time wanted to punch the wall. What did Joey know about what helped? He hated counseling. He couldn't talk about stuff. Why didn't they understand how hard it was to talk about his past?

He gave a slight nod to Joey, began to trudge up the stairs, and was able to mumble out "I need to be alone."

Joey sat there and watched, trying to read the boy. Craig felt relief when he couldn't feel Joey's concerned gaze anymore. He ducked into his room and quietly closed the door. He craved privacy. He wouldn't be getting that in counseling. He just wasn't a fan of talking about that kind of stuff, what was wrong with that? I'm fine, he mouthed to his reflection in the mirror. He had to look away. Sometimes seeing your own reflection brought on a strange sensation. Was it guilt? Or was it just hard to be hit with the realization that this is you?

By that point his good hand was curled around the pill bottle. He still was hesitant. It wasn't like that night at his dad's though. That night of desperation when he came here full of painkillers because he didn't know how to tell his step dad what was happening at home. He didn't want to die then and he certainly didn't now. He just wanted to kill whatever feeling was inside of him. The ache of his burned hand couldn't even distract him from whatever was in his head. It was strange how numbing that seemed more important.

He shouldn't be doing this, he thought as he picked the blue pill out of the bottle. He didn't do this kind of stuff at his dad's. He needed the…his brain stopped for a moment and then spit it out…hitting to happen. He was a screw up. His thoughts were too fast now. There was too much panic. He needed it to stop. He couldn't deal.

He was back in counseling because he couldn't deal. He didn't mean to have that reaction. Sometimes he picked up on the feeling that everyone thought everything was supposed to be fine now that he was living at Joey's. Things were safe now. He should just get up out of bed, go to school, live a normal life. Like he was just supposed to forget the years he spent with his father and how he generally had always been on edge around him. He didn't know how to unlearn that. Maybe he couldn't. Maybe this was just how it was. It didn't seem fair. It didn't seem fair that it was all still in his head, despite all the advice he'd been given and how people were trying to be there.

Everything is just too loud and too fast, Craig put the pill in his mouth and swallowed. This was fine. There was no difference between Joey giving him the Xanax downstairs because he couldn't stop the noise, couldn't deal. He was crazy, he knew that. They all knew that. He was dealing quietly now. Craig sank down onto his bed and laid back. Bring on the quiet. Just make it quiet.

* * *

"I really don't like what he's doing," Joey and handed a bottle of beer to his buddy and then cracked open another one for himself.

"Who?" Simpson asked, but had a hunch. He was picking up on Joey's nervous father routine.

"Albert. I don't mind the dinners or how he drives Craig to and from his summer photography class. I think it's good that he's trying to be more involved in Craig's life. But it's when he takes Craig out for a few hours and they go shopping. And Craig comes back with a couple hundred in clothes and CDs."

Joey got a shrug in return from his buddy so he continued, "Albert is just buying Craig off."

"He probably feels like he owes Craig something," Simpson suggested.

"I don't think he's ever directly said an apology to that kid. I mean something heart felt and not something that he says right after he hits him. That's what he owes him," Joey muttered and moved over to the window to check to see if that was Albert's car moving down the street. The headlights moved past.

"It's just…Craig will make progress. He seems to be doing so well," Joey continued. "Then seeing Albert will set him back and we have to start all over. I have absolutely no idea what goes on during their visits. I just know that afterwards Craig seems tense. Or confused. He seems to think that he has to choose between myself or Albert. That sure isn't me telling him that."

"Is he talking to his social worker?" Simpson asked, his face full of worry for a moment.

"I don't think he's talking to anyone. He'll give Robert and I the run around about the visits of course, telling us that everything went fine. But something just doesn't feel right. Hey, what can I do right?"

"You can be here for him like you always have been. That's enough."

"I don't think it's enough. Last week Craig held onto a hot dish because he didn't want to drop it. He thought it was better to get burned than to drop it and see my reaction."

"He's still having trouble huh?" Simpson said. He knew from working with Craig in school that he was a tough kid to figure out. He smiled so easily and rarely let on he was having problems. The exception was when he'd finally backed himself into a corner. Those were moments they all worried about.

"Yeah, he is. What's really awful is that he thinks there's something wrong with him for his reactions. We…or well, I…decided that he should go back into counseling," Joey said.

"Smart move, I'd say," Simpson agreed.

"I just hope that if something is happening, one of us will be able to help. I don't think Craig views the situation with his father objectively."

"The more people watching out for him the better," Simpson said. It gave him peace of mind to know that others were involved. He had hope for that kid. "Give him time. He's got a lot to sort out."

"I just don't want him to suffer. Silently suffer," Joey said and took a swig of beer. "Well, hopefully he can have some fun later tonight. He's getting together with his friends. He seems much more light hearted after a night with them."

* * *

"To Friday nights," Sean said and held up his bottle of beer. The other three tinked their bottles with him.

"I'm going to miss these nights," Ashley said.

"Is it that point of summer when we start doing the countdown to the new school year?" Ellie questioned.

"Hey, what are you guys complaining about? I've been in school all summer," Craig commented and moved closer to the edge of the roof. He knelt down beside his camera case and switched lenses. He had been watching a certain street corner all evening and the moment felt right now.

"Man, the glow of that street lamp is just eerie," Craig commented. "I my final series to be night shots. But like, have a bit of creepiness to them. Capturing that moment where things just feel strange and surreal."

Ashley was happy to see Craig enthusiastic again. The moments when he seemed inspired by what he saw made her smile. She know those moments were some of the few that he found happiest. She hoped his optimism carried on through the night. The mood felt different tonight. Craig usually had an infectious energy about him and that was dulled at the moment. His gulps of beer seemed more thirsty and his gaze seemed focused on something that wasn't there.

"It's good to see you excited again," Ashley finally said.

"Yeah. Totally! I've been looking at contemporary photography lately. Mr. M gave me this huge book to look through this weekend. My final series is not going to be some photo of a still life."

"I'm sure it'll turn out great, Craig. You usually have really unique photos," Ellie encouraged.

Craig moved around the roof, spying on the city skyline with his camera. Suddenly a rush of thoughts started invading his head. Maybe his idea wasn't all that interesting at all. Maybe he was just copying other photographers again. And his father was right about his technical skills. He had to improve on them; learn the rules before he broke them. He should do something else.

"So the last few weeks have been going well?" Ashley asked.

"It's exhausting," Craig said, melancholy in his voice. He put his camera back in it's case.

"I'm sorry it's not what you thought it would be."

"No it's not the class. It's my dad. Sometimes I get the feeling that he thinks I'm not working hard enough so I say I'm going to stay after and it's like he gets all insulted because he thinks I don't want to spend him with him. Can't win."

"Maybe you shouldn't try to please him at all," Sean had to say.

Craig kneeled down next to a stack of prints that lay next to a grouping of candles. He flipped through his recent shots of an old warehouse he had recently explored.

"These are wrong," Craig said and stood up, the prints clutched in his hand.

"Wait and look at them again tomorrow. Craig, you are in a head space right now," Ellie tried to reason. She and her other two friends had since abandoned their drinks and stood close to Craig.

"It's never going to be good enough for him," Craig ranted and proceeded to toss his prints to the dark street below. Ashley, Ellie, and Sean watched them flutter down like fall leaves.

"Craig…" Ashley started. "If he does this to you, just don't see him anymore."

"No, it's me," Craig said and went for his guitar. He wanted to destroy everything he had. He didn't deserve any of it and he wasn't good at it anyway.

"No," Sean flatly stated and pried the instrument out of his friend's hands. "Craig, you are drunk."

"I'm not!"

"Look, let's go inside and catch a movie. Distractions are good," Ellie encouraged.

They managed to lure Craig inside with the false promise of more beer. On the descent down, Craig realized that maybe he was more intoxicated than he thought.

"It just creeped," Craig mumbled as Sean pushed him into his bedroom.

"It happens," Sean said and watched as Craig fell into bed.

"I'm really sorry, guys. I ruined your night," Craig mumbled into Sean's pillow.

"It's fine Craig, we'll have more. Summer isn't over yet," Ashley said.

His friends, sobered by the experience, alternated gazes with each other and Craig as he drifted out. They didn't say a word to each other as they headed out into the dark street to collect what they could find of Craig's photos.

* * *

Authors Note: There will be reference to things that actually happened in the show, but some of it may be taken out of context (like how I mention Sean and Ellie bonding on the roof of the school, which was in Take On Me). I'm not sure how much of the show's storylines I'm going to keep, I'll probably make those decision as I go! If I don't mention it, it's either safe to assume it didn't happen or Craig isn't aware of it happening, as it is mainly his story. Hopefully the timeline will be obvious.

Credit: "The way he was the survivor who smiled" - Mayberry (Nikki) described Season 2 Craig as this. I loved it so much that I just had to include it here.


	16. Hard To Swallow

**16. Hard To Swallow**

Craig rubbed his damp hair with a towel and tossed it onto his bed. He heard a quick knock on his door. Joey was checking up on him, he assumed.

"I'm almost ready," he called out.

The knock was louder this time. "Joey, I know. I just have to find my shoes." Another knock. Craig stopped dead and raised a hand up to his mouth and wondered how to respond. Joey didn't knock like that. That knock was loud and demanding. He should answer it.

Craig opened the door to find his father standing there, shadows covering half his face.

"This isn't right," Craig couldn't help but whisper. Joey's was the one place he wasn't supposed to be. This was where he could go and know that his father would never be here. Why would Joey betray him like that?

He was stunned; he most certainly didn't see it coming. He didn't see the knife and didn't even feel it. Craig didn't tear his eyes from his father's face to examine the gash. Then a realization occurred. His father didn't mean for it to happen like that. He was meant to walk directly into the knife. It was all an accident. He never meant to hurt him. Craig took a step forward and didn't even feel the stab. He wasn't sure when his father left him or why he was in his bedroom now. He drifted outside of himself for a moment, drifting up above his bed and saw his white t-shirt was stained with blood, some wet and some dry and stuck to his thin frame. The sheets of the bed were stained bright red. He was hurt and alone.

Something was happening now. Craig sat up and listened. His wounds didn't affect his movements now because he could hear Joey. He rushed to the door and began to push the chest of drawers away so he could exit or Joey could come in. It was safe now. He could let him in. He froze once he heard the conversation.

"How could you do something like that? Are you crazy?" Joey asked in an accusing tone.

"Come on, he deserves to bleed. Do you really know who he is? Did you have any idea after his suicide attempt? Go look in his sock drawer and tell me when you find those pill bottles. Then we can talk about what he deserves," Craig heard his father retort.

The blood was gone now, his t-shirt and bed sheets white and pure as fresh snow. Craig opened the drawer and clutched his bottles of pills. He cradled them in his arms and the small tablets rattled as he moved frantically around the room to stuff them in new hiding spots. No one has to know. No one has to know. It's not any of their business. Craig watched in horror a bottle accidentally opened and the pills spilled out onto his floor. He crouched down, eager to find each one.

Craig awoke to the sensation of his heart pounding. He laid still for a moment, eyes wide open. He slowly felt the paralysis begin to drain from him. The vividness of the dream was fading and with that his heart slowed. It was a dream.

"Oh my God," he whispered and rolled over onto his side to check the clock. An hour until his alarm went off. He could go back to sleep. He should go back to sleep. It was hard enough to stay awake in class. The weather was warm lately and he was still struggling to adjust to not being able to sleep in. The first few weeks of school were horrible. Yes, he should try to sleep.

Craig closed his eyes but they were open again. Why would he dream about that? And on today of all days? He had his birthday dinner with his father tonight. He always felt his nerves sharpen like pins and needles whenever he had to see him. And then he would become jumpy and he hated those reactions. He wished he could stop that. Craig told himself to relax but his mind was going now; spinning and recycling memories he kept way back in his mind.

"_What happened to six o'clock?" his father had demanded._

"_I know uh, I'm sorry. It's just the light outside, late summer, incredible and I just uh-" Craig had tried to explain. The words felt like a lie on his tongue; that wasn't the worth truth. And his father knew, he could sense it. _

"_Got distracted and missed dinner," Albert finished. _

"_Yeah, uh, Dad I'm sorry."_

_His father swiftly pushed his plate to the floor. Craig had nearly jumped out of his chair. He never really ever got used to his father's outbursts._

"_When I say six o'clock, I don't care how great the light is, you're home. Do you understand me? Just clean it up," Albert had ordered before removing himself from the situation. _

Craig could still feel how tense his muscles were on that day. He hated dinners with his father. He just hated them. His stomach would be all twisted up in knots and sometimes it was hard to swallow.

"_Wow. Roast beef, mashed potatoes, Yorkshire pudding," Craig said as he scanned over the dinner table._

"_Your favorite," Albert said cheerfully._

"_Yeah totally. I love roast beef. Remember how Mom used to make it?"_

He still remembered the look on his father's face to this day. That look would stop him dead in his tracks. Stop it, Craig told himself. He made his favorite meal. His father did care. He did. It was just a messed up kind of love. Not that messed up. Just a little. Craig screwed up too. He should know by now what not to say.

There was moments when he noticed the subtle differences between his father's and Joey's. The smells were different. His father's was crisp and clean; the lemon scent of the disinfectant the housekeeper used and the freshness of the air conditioning. He remembered how strange Joey's house smelled when he had first walked through the front door. It just didn't smell like home. It wasn't what he was used to. The air was warmer there, sweeter. And his father's house and Joey's place obviously looked different. The glasses in Joey's cupboard didn't match and the pillows on the couch were lumpy. Joey's house was comfortable and lived in while his father needed to have more order. Everything had a place. This did make sense, he supposed. But there was so many rules to follow to keep it together. His father did this with sounds too. He liked the volume at on the TV and stereo at a certain level. Sometimes Craig would purposely keep them off, even when he was bored. He just knew that sometimes it was better to be invisible. Joey's was the opposite. The living room TV would be on and the radio blaring in the kitchen. The casualness of Joey's overwhelmed him. He wasn't sure why it did. His father couldn't hear it. He wasn't there. Strange how he was always there, even in his mind. Craig dismissed this as being necessary. It kept him prepared. And he needed to be prepared for incidents like the one that happened several weeks ago.

_Craig carefully cut into his chicken breast with his knife. He didn't want to make that annoying scratching noise. He put the piece of meat into his mouth and chewed. "This is really good, Dad," Craig complimented. "Thanks for having me over for dinner."_

"_It's always great to have you around."_

"_Yeah. This is just like how it used to be," Craig said and felt a bit of regret once he said that. Was that the right thing to say? Was it good that things were how they used to be? No, he meant it in the good way. What to say now? "I miss your cooking. Uh, last night we just ended up eating pizza in front of the TV. It was fun though. Caitlin was over again." _

"_You didn't eat at the kitchen table?" Albert questioned and Craig felt all his attention focused on him. _

_Craig felt his stomach muscles tighten. He should have known. He should have known. "Uh, it was just a real casual thing."_

"_A family dinner is when you are all supposed to come together at the end of the day," Albert was feeling the rage again. Dinners were important to him. His son could never make it on time. He didn't show him that consideration, that love._

"_But we were all together," Craig said and smiled nervously. What was going on here? He felt his palms begin to sweat._

"_I bet you had the TV on too." The blood was pounding against his skull. He was sure Joey Jeremiah let Craig do whatever he pleased._

"_Uh, yeah, I guess."_

"_Do you have any order there? You need order in your life."_

_Craig stood up. He just wanted out of there. _

"_Sit down!" Albert barked. His movements were smooth and quick. Craig was barely aware of it happening. He just felt his father grip his arms and pull him back down into his chair. He wanted to react but all he could do was nod._

Craig squeezed his eyes shut. Maybe it wasn't like that. Why did he have such a hard time remembering moments like that but they were so real at the same time. There were too many tense "family" dinners and they were getting jumbled now. He could feel it all happening but at the same time he was drifting away.

The screeching of his alarm brought him back. He was confused for a moment and then wiped the corners of his eyes. He totally lost track of time. Where did he go?

"You really are nuts," Craig silently told himself as he turned off his alarm and crawled out of bed.

Craig went for his sock drawer and pulled out the pill bottle. He then grew tense. "Shit," he muttered and put the bottle back. Then it was back in his hand again. He clutched it so tightly that his knuckles were white. He wanted to so bad. But he shook his head. He couldn't do this today. Not on his birthday. But it was his birthday. He should get to feel good. He should get to celebrate. He felt that itch again. Like he was going to jump out of his skin.

"This is wrong," he thought to himself and put the bottle back. He closed the drawer and then his eyes. His father and Joey would be so disappointed if they knew. If he was ever going to get busted again it couldn't be today. It was his birthday, the day when they were supposed to be grateful that he had been born and enjoyed having him around. He shook his head. If they only knew.

* * *

Craig could smell breakfast cooking as he got ready and his stomach growled furiously as he came down the stairs. Usually it was cold cereal or oatmeal.

"Hey guys," Craig greeted and surveyed the kitchen table. They had started in on their breakfasts and Angela already looked sticky from the syrup.

"Happy Birthday Craig!" Angie screeched the second she laid eyes on her older brother.

Joey watched as his stepson first looked startled but he understood. When Angie was excited her energy was enough to nearly knock anyone over, especially this early. He felt his smile widening as he watched a grin spread on Craig's face. Craig was still all smiles as he sat down next to his sister at the table.

"Look what I made you," Angie continued and lifted a handmade crown off the kitchen table. Craig leaned down and let his stepsister put it on his head. Craig paused to brush glitter off his nose before thanking his sister.

"You have to wear it all day cause it's your birthday," she instructed.

Craig removed it from his head to briefly examine his first birthday gift. Purple construction paper, gold stars, and silver glitter. He put it back on his head. "Oh, I'll wear it all day."

"And…because it's _your_ birthday I made you breakfast," Angie said.

"That's sweet of you," Craig said as his sister proudly set a plate in front of him.

"French toast, eggs, bacon, _everything_."

"It looks really good, Angie," Craig said and started to eat. He was surprised that it actually tasted like french toast. Joey must've helped. He felt warm inside. They remembered his birthday. They went out of their way on a busy school day to make him breakfast. "It is good! Wow, you guys are amazing!" Craig praised and gave his sister a quick squeeze.

"We should go to the zoo for Craig's birthday!" Angie said and bounced in her seat.

"Eat some more french toast," Joey reminded his young daughter. In all her excitement it seem she had forgotten about breakfast. "And I think Craig should get to decide what he wants to do."

"Well, uh, I'm not sure. I…I have to do dinner with my dad, remember?"

"No, Craig!" Angie whined and dramatically set her cup of juice down on the table.

"Angie, Craig needs to spend time with his dad too. We'll have cake when he gets home," Joey said calmly.

"But doesn't he want a party?"

"I don't need a party," Craig quickly said. "This is enough. Thanks for…remembering."

"Think we'd forget your birthday?" Joey said with a grin.

Over the birthday breakfast Angie cheerfully listed all the activities they could do today. Craig suggested that they take the day off and go to an amusement park. Angie nearly jumped out of her chair and Joey casually declined their request. He smirked at how both kids pouted some.

"Go finish getting ready for school, Ang," Joey encouraged. "Be sure to wash your hands."

Craig watched Angie hop out of her chair and scurried out of the room. "Thanks Joey," Craig repeated.

"Hey, you are the birthday boy," Joey said and quickly started to set the dishes in the sink.

Craig brought a napkin up to his mouth. "Eggshell."

"Sorry about that. I tried to keep track of everything she was doing. She really wanted to help."

"That's so sweet," Craig said with a smile. "She's the best."

"Hey, I hate to rush you, but we've got to get moving," Joey said and tossed the kitchen towel onto the counter and checked his watch.

Craig stood and grabbed a few slices of bacon and a slice of toast. Before taking a huge bite of the toast he said, "I still think it's wrong of you to make me go to school on my birthday."

Joey patted Craig on the back as they headed for the door. "It's such an injustice."

Craig smiled softly as he reached for his backpack. It was strange how whatever chaos inside him had simmered down. It really was safe here at Joey's.

* * *

His father usually brought him to the same bistro. This time he encouraged Craig to order anything on the menu; it was his birthday and they were celebrating. The waitress warmly greeted his father and even addressed Craig by his first name. That threw him off some; was his father a regular here? The idea of him mentioning him to a waitress seemed strange, even a little sad. He imagined his father coming here, the same days each week, the same time and eating alone. Maybe he found company being surrounded by the other customers and the candid passing of information to the waitress that he would be here with his son next Wednesday.

"How are things at work?" Craig asked as they ate. Whatever weirdness he felt inside of him this morning was fading. This was his father. It was odd how sometimes Craig viewed him as two different people.

"It's going well. My hours are more even now. I gave a seminar speech last month to some of my colleagues," Albert answered. "Enough about me. It's you I want to hear about. You started school a few weeks ago?"

"Yup, school is back in session."

"What is your class schedule like?" Albert inquired. It was another thing he wasn't involved in with his son's life. He wanted to be involved. Craig was his son.

"Uh, the required courses of course. Chemistry this year," Craig said and made a face. "I'm taking my second year of art. And music."

"Well, if you ever need any help, you know I'm here," Albert said. He watched as his son took a few more bites of food, then a sip of water. When he met his gaze again, Albert repeated, "I'm here." He hoped that Craig understood what he meant.

Craig swallowed slow. "Thanks…for that," was the only thing he could think of to say.

"I can't believe I waited until we were almost finished with dinner to give you your birthday present," Albert said after a moment and removed an envelope from his suit coat pocket.

Craig's eyes shifted around some, then he smiled and took the envelope. Albert watched his son's expression closely as he opened the envelope and then the card. Craig found it hard to focus on the sentimental words on the card. He felt a strange ache in his stomach some and didn't quite understand it. The card was positive. This was positive. His eyes bugged out at the dollar amount on the check that was tucked inside.

"Oh my…" Craig couldn't speak. "Dad! You didn't have to do this! That's a lot of money!"

"I just want you to know how special you are to me. You deserve to buy something nice for yourself."

Craig didn't know what to say. There was a lot he could buy with a couple hundred. "Yeah. Wow. Thank you!"

"No problem, Craigger. I know you had a hard time last year around this time," Albert said and placed his hand over Craig's. He felt Craig move slightly, suggesting he was going to jerk away, but then was still.

"Yeah," Craig softly said and wouldn't meet his father's eyes. They had never talked about his suicide attempt or why he was so out of it.

"I'm glad that you are doing better."

Craig nodded and was unsure of what to say.

"Things are better right?"

"Um, I think so," Craig said softly. What was he supposed to say? He hated when people asked him if things were better. It was only slightly better than when they asked him how he was feeling. That always stopped him dead because then he actually had to try to figure out what was going on in his head. Normally it was just there. "Uh, I still have to see someone. The school…psychologist. Joey's idea, not mine."

"We all want you to be healthy and happy."

Craig's head jerked up at the sound of that. This was the first time he heard his dad refer to himself and Joey as we; like as two people involved in his life.

"Oh, I'm fine now. Really," Craig decided to reassure.

"Look, Craig, I'm sorry that you felt that desperate. I know that things at home were tense," Albert said slowly. He licked his lips. He knew there was times things got out of hand. That was his fault. He tried to ignore how Craig was fidgeting some. He tried to disregard that feeling in the back of his brain and the soft voice that was reminding him that this was Craig not paying attention. Not paying attention meant he didn't appreciate him, didn't love him. It was thoughts like that that made him furious. Albert stopped himself and those thoughts. He took a deep breath. "You do mean a lot to me. I hope you know that."

Craig couldn't look at him. Not yet. He kept his head down some, looking at their near empty plates, the water glasses, and floral arrangement on the table. "We never really talked about it. I mean…how things were." He glanced up but quickly looked away. He felt himself flinch some and could only hope it was a small one. Was he saying the right thing? "I know it's…me too."

"I was a very angry man; about work, your mom, everything and I took it out on you. And that just isn't right. And I'm sorry. It'll never ever happen again, I promise," Albert reassured.

Albert noticed the moment Craig's eyes quit darting around. His son looked like he wanted to smile. And his eyes had that sparkle in them again. He also saw love in them. He hadn't seen that in awhile. Maybe not since Craig was a little boy. He was giving him that look he thought was gone forever; there was love and admiration in his eyes. He thought that kid was gone forever, that little boy that he had gotten along so well with. Their troubles were really over now. There wouldn't be anymore slipups, he promised himself. He had his son back now; _his_ son. It would just be a matter of time before he got him home.

Craig didn't know what to say. His breathing had picked up a little. It was everything that he had wanted to hear. Craig's gaze stayed unblinking on his father. This felt sincere. It felt right and normal. He didn't even sense the waitresses presence until he felt her sleeve brush up against his arm.

"Are you finished?"

"What?" Craig asked, confused. He looked down at his plate and then at her. "Oh, yeah. I'm done."

"Happy Birthday Craig," Albert congratulated again that night. "I'm glad I got to share this moment with you."

* * *

"Happy Birthday!"

Craig was bewildered by the shouts and the silly string that was being squirted into his face. It took him a moment to understand. He was expecting to see Joey and Angie on the couch and the TV playing one of her favorite cartoons. Joey would look up from his newspaper, greet him, and ask how the dinner with his father went. He wasn't expecting them standing in the middle of the living room, surrounded by his friends from school and some of his stepfather's friends as well. His eyes moved over the streams and balloons. Angela pranced up and he reached out to embrace her.

"It's a party for you! I told you that you needed one!" she said and snuggled into her brother's arms.

"You surprised me!" Craig said with a grin on his face and gave Angie a squeeze before setting her back on her feet.

"One more surprise," Ashley called out as she emerged from the kitchen with a cake. Craig moved through the crowd to get a closer look. Jelly beans, rainbow candy sprinkles, colorful swirls of frosting; his appetite was back despite a big meal with his father. It had better be - "Chocolate," Ashley confirmed.

"You are my favorite pastry chef," Craig said with a smirk.

"I hope you have room. Big meal with Dad, I'm assuming," Joey mentioned.

"I always have room for chocolate cake," Craig said and went for the paper plates. "You guys are all so good to me."

* * *

Craig glanced over at the couch where Sean, Ellie, and Ashley sat. Ellie was close beside Sean, and Ashley was on the arm of the couch, gazing out into the crowd. She met his eyes for a moment and he shifted his attention back to Spinner and laughed at the end of his joke. He made sure to confirm plans for rehearsing with him, Marco, and Jimmy.

"We really need to decide on a name," Spinner encouraged.

"Totally," Craig agreed and started to move into the crowd. "First priority, I swear."

He almost made it to the couch but was intercepted by his media immersion teacher.

"My summer was great," Craig confirmed when asked and made lighthearted conversation. It was strange how everyone had approached him at some point and wished him a happy birthday. He felt warm inside and smiled a little; they all cared. He never had this many people around him as a kid. It was almost always him and his dad. He felt his two worlds colliding again; there was Joey's and there was his Dad's.

He should stop thinking, he told himself as he moved towards Sean, Ellie, and Ashley. Sean and Ellie shifted in their seats, leaving a spot for Craig, and he sank down next to them. He felt Ashley run her hands over his upper back and stroke the back of his neck.

"It's kind of weird," Craig couldn't help but mention.

"What is?" Ellie asked.

"Coming from dinner with my dad and then having this party. I mean I guess it's weird good because everything is…it's really great. That's kind of confusing too. But anyway, it's weird because there's like these two different worlds I belong in. " Craig didn't say anymore. He thought they might find it strange that sometimes he felt like two different people, of two different minds.

Ashley twirled her fingers around the curly hair on the back of his head. "I kind of know what you mean. I mean, after the divorce there was mom and dad's. It is kind of strange having them separate."

Craig was quiet for a moment. It was sort of like a divorce settlement over living arrangements, who got the kid. He was going to have to pick between the two one of these days. Someone was going to end up hurt. He really liked it here at Joey's. Could he really be thinking that? He felt the guilt settle into his stomach. It was almost safer when things were going wrong. He knew that Joey would be there.

"My dad gave me a present tonight. A check," Craig said and removed it from his pocket. He passed it to Ashley, then to Ellie, who passed it to Sean, and then it was returned to Craig's hands. Craig tried not to notice how Sean's mouth dropped and then he shifted uncomfortably.

"Wow," Ellie said, her usual monotone was raised some.

"Yeah, it's kind of weird. He said…he said it's supposed to make up for last year," Craig said and felt like he was spitting out the words. This was hard to say and he didn't know why.

"Hey, you and father have been through a lot. Maybe he was trying to make it up to you," Ashley suggested.

"It's just strange, having all that brought up again. I mean, it was kind of good to talk about it but now…" Craig sighed. "I just don't want to think about."

"You should have some fun with it. Let's hit the music store tomorrow."

"Why don't we have a party? I mean, one of our parties," Craig said and slowly began to smile. That was a great way to get away from all this. "It's _my _birthday."

"Well, Jeff is going out of town this weekend. My mom is going with him. So it's just me and Tobes," Ashley said softly. She felt a bit hesitant as the results of her last party flashed through her mind.

"Yup, we're going to party," Sean said knowingly.

"Uh, no."

"Come on," Craig encouraged with a sweet smile and rubbed Ashley's knee.

"If you ever want to see me again, no parties."

"It could be a small get together right? Just us," Craig encouraged.

"Do you have idea how much I'd have to pay in blackmail to keep Toby quiet?" Ashley said and her tone was doubtful.

"We'll sneak in and just stay holed up in your bedroom all weekend. It will be our little hide away. Let's get away from all this," Craig said, his voice just above a whisper. He gave a soft smile to Ashley and saw her hesitation start to melt away. "Party cocktails are on me."

* * *

Craig felt Ashley's hand clamp down over his mouth. "Shhh!" she hissed and Craig struggled to contain his laughter. Moving through Ashley's darkened house while slightly buzzed was humoring him all too much. Ashley peeked over Craig's shoulder. Toby and JT were still soundly asleep on the living room floor. She hoped the movie they left running would conceal any noise they made. In the back of her mind was the reminder of her last party at the end of grade 8. She didn't like that memory, the way it seemed to scratch at her skull.

Craig adjusted his backpack and tried not to let the bottles clink. He felt Sean's case of beer brush up against him as they moved down the hallway to Ashley's room. He watched her open her bedroom door and blinked against the warm glow of subtle lamp light and candles. He gave a small smile to Ellie, whose gaze had lifted from the TV and was on him and Sean. Craig shifted awkwardly some. This was something new. It felt different than at Sean's or even at Joey's, where he knew there was an open door and they were free to stop by.

He watched Ashley quietly close her bedroom door. They were breaking a rule. That's why he felt strange, Craig realized. But he also felt excited by this moment.

"Do you…want something to drink?" Ashley asked, fidgeting with her jewelry.

Craig could only smile. She was such a little hostess. There was packages of food on her desk; bags of potato chips and cans of soda. She had even brought in a stack of blankets and extra pillows for them. He set his backpack down on the bed and began to pull out bottles of hard liquor. He set them down near a grouping of candles and the liquids seemed to shimmer and glow. Craig glanced around. Ashley and Ellie were sitting on the bed, staring at the bottles.

"I'll mix up some drinks," Sean offered and the liquor began to flow and their inhibitions started to float away.

Ashley used the heavier blankets to block the windows once the sun came up. It was almost like they weren't just defying her parents, they were defying the whole world. It was gone. It was just them. They stayed there, sealed up. By day two, it kind of got to them being isolated like that. Was there anything outside of this? They found themselves talking, confessing. They could talk about parents and the weird awkward moments of high school. All that just seemed to go away.

Ashley and Ellie would emerge from their haven to forage for food every now and then. Toby had given her a curious look once he spied how their arms were full of food. "Girls pig out when they have slumber parties," Ashley explained and tried not to slur her words. From his curious expression, she doubted that he believed her. She wondered if there would be huge consequences for all this later. But that thought quickly slipped out of her mind. She couldn't focus. She was just there, but that felt alright.

Time started to melt together. Craig quietly entered the room after sneaking out for a bathroom break. He carefully maneuvered through the mess on the floor. Clothes, CD'S, and packages of half eaten food were scattered around. They had built make-shift forts out of sheets. They all had giggled and said it reminded them of their childhoods. Sometimes they all gathered into the one with the TV. It was one of the most intimate moments Craig had ever felt and he didn't want it to end; he wanted them to stay there curled up, limbs touching and sometimes intertwined.

Craig crawled into the tent he knew Ashley had fallen asleep in. The TV screen colors danced over her face. Craig could tell she was still asleep. He laid still and enjoyed the numbness of his head. He felt himself drifting in and out and all he could think was that he wanted this to last forever. He felt his body drifting away and sleep settling in. He wasn't sure when he came back.

He delicately ran his fingertips over the floral decoration on the sheet that was above his head. The colors shifted as the TV screen flickered from one scene to the next. The voices were muddled and soft and Craig could hear the sounds of sucking - Sean and Ellie were taking advantage of their privacy. Their makeshift fort seemed a little brighter than it had an hour ago; sunlight was slowly spilling in from under Ashley's heavy black curtains. He wondered what time it was or if he had fallen asleep again.

"Hey you," Ashley said. She ran her fingertips over his forehead. "Are you okay?"

"Oh yeah…" Craig said and shifted his sleepy gaze over to her. "I think I just totally zoned out."

Ashley leaned over him and gently pressed her lips on his. Craig could taste the rum that was still on her tongue and that only encouraged him to kiss her harder, flicking his tongue in then sucking on her lips. They paused after awhile of kissing, their breathing heavy and bodies tired.

Ashley laid her head on his chest and listened to his heart beat. The words fell out and she wasn't even sure why she asked. "Have you taken anything this weekend?"

"Taken anything?" Craig questioned.

"Pills."

"You know about that?" He was a little shocked.

"I've seen the bottles. I've seen you taken them…" Ashley said and felt a slightly strange but the moment was dulled by alcohol. Was she supposed to see what he did?

Craig wasn't sure why she was bringing this up now. He felt the guilt stab some. The same guilt that had given him that horrible nightmare. "It's not anything hardcore. It's just painkillers and benzos. But I'm, like, so careful. Like this weekend, haven't taken a thing. I know what I'm doing. It's so under control."

"I'm scared of losing control," Ashley whispered.

"What? What do you think will happen?"

"The whole ecstasy thing…" Ashley didn't finish and wouldn't meet his gaze. "Aren't you afraid of losing control?"

"I don't know. I've never really felt like I was in control of anything so I don't really think about it."

"I don't want to lose control ever again. Not like when I was in grade 8," Ashley paused and rubbed her forehead. Craig could tell she was still intoxicated. "It's like you try so hard to keep it together and you can feel it so tense inside you. And you just have to get away. Is that why you do it?"

This conversation was sobering him up. He felt his muscles tighten. It was moments like these where he realized that maybe what he was doing wasn't okay. It was fine for him to hurt himself but he wouldn't want to hurt her. He didn't want her to feel that need to check herself out of the world for awhile. But maybe this wasn't hurt at all. It helped, a part of him really believed. He couldn't imagine someone taking it away. His hand started to go for his pocket. Then he stopped and rested it on his stomach.

"I think before, with the ecstasy, I didn't feel safe with them. My head was in the wrong space," Ashley continued. "I didn't know how I was supposed to act around them. But I don't worry about that with you guys. I think I might be okay with it."

Ashley paused again for a moment. She felt like she was thinking out loud. "I know…I shouldn't be saying any of this or thinking it. Kate Kerwin would say no." Ashley giggled but then became serious. "I can just understand why you would want to sort of go away. I think I'd be okay with it."

"I think we're a little too out of it, Ash," Craig said and brought his lips to hers. He kissed her for awhile but felt like he was someplace else. It was hard to pinpoint his thoughts, make them slow down enough for him to make sense of them.

"Besides, I don't have anything on me," Craig decided on saying. "Maybe another weekend. When we haven't been drinking."

The decision made him feel a little sick. Not to mention confused. Right and wrong and feeling better and making things worse were a little hazy for him. It was a strange moment that took him away from his friends for awhile. He watched as Sean and Ellie crawled in next to them and laid down on a mound of pillows. He barely felt Sean playfully punch his arm and didn't her his joke. Ellie's laughter was dulled some. He was lying to Ashley; he had a few tablets in his pocket. But he hadn't taken any yet this weekend, that was true, he tried to reassure himself of his actions. He wasn't sure if it was to protect her or because he couldn't stand the idea of having one less pill from his emergency stash. One less pill meant that he was one closer to having no control.


	17. Should I Stay Or Should I Go?

**Authors Note: **For the non-Crash fan, stick through the first part. There is angst for Craig and his fathers after that. There is also some Craig and Ellie friendship interaction that I think you will enjoy in this chapter as well. I think it will all make sense once you reach the end.

* * *

**17. Should I Stay or Should I Go?**

Craig slowly moved his lips down to her neck and remained there. Then his hand began to itch it's way down, lingering on her breasts for only a moment. He felt them on her belt buckle now and hearing her heavy breathing only made him want it more. This felt right. He started to undo her pants.

"Craig," Ashley breathed. She felt him hesitate a little but sensed he wasn't about to give up. So she gave him a small push to remove him from her and sat up. She watched him do the same; he looked puzzled. "I'm sorry it's just.."

"I love you," Ashley blurted out. She had to know. Something didn't feel complete with them. Maybe this was it.

What could he say? Craig wondered and let out a little nervous chuckle. In that one moment, everything changed. How could he explain how that phrase changed everything? Honestly, he didn't have much positive associations with it. I love you's came after beatings over poorly cleaned dishes or lights left on. I love you's were apologies, excuses, and acted as bandages in a way. They scared him. I love you's where the last phrases you said to your mother because you never knew if this visit to the hospital would be your last. I love you's were final and they were scary.

"What?" Craig questioned when she placed a hand on his chest to keep him from moving in to kiss her.

"Well, do you, feel like that?" Ashley prompted.

Did he feel that way about her? Craig couldn't get that far. There was too much going on in his head about what it meant. She wanted something from him, that was it. I love you could never be pure.

"Nah, Not really. I think you are dumb and you kind of smell," Craig joked and smiled a little. She wasn't smiling back. So he moved in to kiss her again. Maybe that would prove to her how much he cared.

"I should get back to my homework." Ashley said and moved to her desk. She wanted to forget this moment just happened although she knew her mind would never give her that moment of rest. She'd twist it around in her mind and wonder if she said the right thing. And she would wonder what it meant when Craig didn't say it back.

"Ash! Look, of course I feel like you do, I just…" Craig knew he was running out of time. He had to do something quick.

"Holy make out hair," Ashley said as she looked over herself in the mirror. She rubbed at her tousled hair. She could hear Toby and JT laughing in the next room. She knew her mom and Jeff would be downstairs in front of the TV. They would remain there until Craig left. She was starting to feel strange. "I better um," Ashley muttered and made a quick exit for the door.

"Ash!" Craig called out but she was already gone and he was left with his confusion.

* * *

Craig focused all his energy onto getting back into Ashley's good graces. He desperately wanted to ignore the nagging questions he had about "love." He'd focus instead on why Ashley stopped him and how he could past third base. Spinner, who he thought would be a help, wasn't. He had no clue what to do. Craig knew he couldn't ask Sean. The last time he had brought up curiosities about how to take things further, he'd nearly gotten smacked. "I don't talk about that stuff," Sean simply stated. But he had Marco, who seemed to enjoy helping anyone out. So he rambled onto his buddy about his current situation. He was sure Marco had heard five variations of last night.

"Well, do you love her?" Marco had asked.

"That's a really big word," Craig had responded. No, he didn't love her. Yes, he did. He had never felt love before, how would he ever know? He was scared he would lose her just like he was scared he would lose his parents and he loved them obviously. So that made it love? Scared was familiar. Did he love his father, _really_? His mind returned to Ashley. Ashley. So he had to love her to have sex. That seemed logical. But how do you know? He had to be careful with this girl, he knew that. Things sped up in his mind. Things got so fast he thought he might start screaming. This just didn't make sense, plain and simple.

Craig felt someone brush up against him. The school hallway felt especially busy today.

"Hey, look, perfect," Marco said and gestured to the rose-a-gram stand. "Send Ash one, okay? Show her how you really feel."

Craig looked over at Marco and was sure he wore a pained expression. This all felt silly. This was how he was supposed to say he loved her? With flowers? Why didn't he run out and buy her a diamond necklace too? Or do what his old man did and buy him a new digital camera. He felt tense all of a sudden. His father had always showered him with presents. When he was little he didn't really understand the happiness he felt when his dad would bring home the latest action figure for him. He didn't think about it when he said "Thanks dad, I love you!" He wasn't sure he wanted to reenact any of that with Ashley. Gifts were nice but they weren't love.

"Come on, man. It's a little romance. Not going to kill you," Marco encouraged and gave Craig a shove.

"Next," Liberty encouraged as the previous customer moved away.

"Uh, one, please," Craig said and watched as Liberty held out a small card. "Oh I don't need a card."

"If it's for a girl, you need one," Liberty said without pause.

"You know what, let's make it a dozen," Craig said as he took the card. He saw Liberty and Kendra smile at each other. Their fundraiser was going to do great thanks to him. And Ashley would find it romantic and know that he cared. It was a win-win situation. He picked up the pen and bent over the table. What to write?

She loved him. He had to say it back. He tried to. He couldn't even write it on the card. He was terrified and even felt a little silly. He glanced up and saw the two girls arranging the red roses carefully. Flowers made girls happy. He wanted to make Ashley happy. And they would show that he loved her? Craig's head throbbed with confusion.

* * *

"Hey," Craig greeted. "Ashley's DVDs and CDs that she left over at my place." Craig held up the flicks and music and waved them a little. "She's not speaking to me besides to say that we need space so I figured I'd leave her crap with you. Breaking up, it's been an experience. But you know, I don't even care at this point. I really don't. We've had our little fights and it's always about me groveling to her. This one isn't my fault!" Craig ranted as he entered Ellie's kitchen.

Then he finally noticed his surroundings. His eyes moved from his friend and scanned over the background. The kitchen was a mess with dirty dishes on the table and counter and a broom sat next to a cluster of broken dishes on the floor. He didn't notice at first, but now he saw that Ellie's eyes were red.

"Whatever," Ellie said and snatched the DVDs and CDs from Craig's hands. She tossed them onto the kitchen table.

"Are you okay? I came at a bad time," Craig said, his tone calm now.

"I'm just so tired of this!" Ellie exclaimed and threw down the chunks of ceramic plates. They made a satisfying clatter as they smashed into further small pieces on the floor.

Craig watched her bring her hand up over her eyes. The knots in his stomach tightened some. Ellie was his friend, his best friends girlfriend, and they hung out as such but things had never been like this. He almost wanted to suggest that they call up Ashley or Sean. So he simply began to sweep up the ceramic shards of plate.

"El, you are bleeding. Did you cut yourself?" Craig noticed and said without thinking. Then he felt his cheeks burn as he realized she probably didn't cut herself while tidying broken dishes. No, he shouldn't assume that it wasn't an accident. Say something, he told himself.

Ellie quickly put a hand over her left wrist, covering the small droplets of blood that had soaked through her shirt.

"Sorry," Craig mumbled. "I didn't mean it like that. I thought maybe when you were cleaning up…"

"You know about it too, don't you? The whole school knows. I don't know how. Maybe Paige told people. God, I can't believe that out of anyone that could find out, it had to be her. I've never been more ashamed."

"It's not that big of a deal," Craig tried and stood up to face her. "I mean, it…"

"Not that big of a deal? Craig, look around. See the empty vodka bottles. See the mess? Want to go peek in on my poor drunken mother who can't handle being alone while my dad's away on a peacekeeping mission so she hits the bottle? I can't deal and it feels like a big deal to me."

"I meant the people talking," Craig said and started to stack dirty dishes into the sink. He didn't know what else to do. "I don't know. I don't know what to say. I know how it feels having someone in your business like that."

"I just want to be left alone. Now people are trying to take away what I use to deal, how I cope. It scares the shit out of me."

Craig nodded weakly and continued to move around the kitchen, gathering dirty dishes. "I know what you mean," he agreed and glanced over at the redhead who had since sank down into a chair at the kitchen table. "I mean about how people think they know what's best for you and want to take away how you deal. I mean, I know…some of the stuff I do, it's just asking for trouble but it's better than…" Craig shrugged and didn't finish. He didn't want this girl to know how lost he felt sometimes.

Ellie watched as Craig turned on the water, rolled up his sleeves, and started washing the dishes. It was a little strange having him in her house, doing her dishes, especially in a moment like this. But it also felt a bit comforting having him there but not up in her face asking what was wrong with her, why would she ever want to bring a blade to her own flesh? Ellie tried to get herself to breathe normally but couldn't stop with the quick, rapid sucking in of air as she tried not to cry.

"Have you ever…" She couldn't say the word. It was like by saying it she was actually admitting that it existed and maybe it was a problem.

Craig picked up a few glasses off the table and met his friend's eyes for a moment. "Yeah. But…I dunno, I don't think about doing it a lot of the time. Just sometimes it's like well, it seemed like a good option at the time."

"I think about it a lot lately," Ellie admitted once Craig had his back turned. She froze as she heard the sounds of movement upstairs. Her mother's room. Great, she was up. Don't come downstairs, she silently pleaded. She didn't want to know her reaction to Craig being over. She had enough problems trying to get her to accept Sean. Sometimes she wondered if her mother drank till she was sick just so she would feel like she had to stay at home and take care of her. Who else did her mother have anyway when her father was away? "I'm going to go check on her," Ellie said, wiped her eyes, and stood up

Craig nodded. "Clean kitchen when you return," he promised light heartedly.

"Is she okay?" Craig asked when he saw the red head enter the room. He watched her weakly nod and sink back down into the kitchen chair. She looked exhausted. Craig had previously assumed that everyone was just stressing over landing their perfect internships. He didn't understand why she was so upset over a low mark in math class. Things made sense now. Man, was he slow. He then felt a stab of guilt.

"I'm kind of an out of control drinker at times," Craig said with an embarrassed smile. "Does it get to you?"

"No. it doesn't. I haven't seen you like I've seen my mom. Hey, we all make mistakes, right?"

"Well, this weekend we should go to the movies or something. Just chill out," Craig paused and sighed. "I guess it won't be us four though."

"You and Ashley will work things out."

"I'm sure you know all about it. She thinks I…don't care."

"Ashley is into validation. She just needs to know for sure before she can fully trust you."

"I don't know if I can…it's just different for me."

"Then you two need to talk about it and come to some understanding."

Craig nodded, "If she'll even give me the time of day. It felt especially chilly in the caf today during lunch." He paused to sigh. "I'll have to deal with all that later. Tonight, dinner with my dad."

"Fun times?"

"It's actually not that bad lately. We've been getting together a lot. Last weekend was a Maple Leafs game. Things really feel different between us," Craig said thoughtfully. It surprised him how he wasn't all that nervous.

* * *

Albert was trying to avoid the thoughts he was having. He urged himself to just let them happen, to just let them flow through him and then move on. But they kept popping back up. He tried to keep the topic on school, his son's friends. Anything but what he was thinking about.

"How are things at Joey's?" he finally had to ask. He had to know.

Craig shrugged, not really wanting to answer. "It's Joey's."

"How's Angela?"

"She's good, really good. She's in elementary school now. Soon I won't be having to read her bedtime stories anymore. It's crazy how quickly she's growing up."

"What about the girlfriend?"

"Joey's girlfriend? Caitlin?"

"Yes. She moved in, didn't she? Why was I not asked about this?"

"Why would they ask you?" Craig couldn't help but say. What to say now, he wondered. He had to fix this awkward moment. "I don't mind Caitlin. I mean, Joey asked me about it. How I felt about it. I said I was fine with it. It's kind of like having a mom around again, I guess."

He watched his father's facial features tense up. He had just added fuel to the fire.

"Craig, I don't think that Joey having a live-in girlfriend sets a very good example to you. You've already had to watch your mother take up an affair with him."

Craig looked away. "I don't really remember any of that."

"Oh you don't?

Craig nervously took a sip of water and then shook his head. Albert watched his son closely. He had a small smile on his face; what was that about?

"To this day, I'm not sure how it started or why. I mean, how does your wife take up an affair with a used car salesman? I made sure she was well taken care of. We were a family," Albert said.

Craig managed to get himself to nod in response. He didn't like to think about his parents divorce. It just brought up more questions in his head. Questions he would never get answers from his mother.

"I tried to keep track of her. I knew when she was sneaking off to be with him. I tried to stop it. I tried to keep her. She was my wife."

Craig couldn't get himself to meet his father's eyes. He didn't like the way he was talking, not at all. He was getting that feeling again; he father seemed so controlling over them.

"The divorce didn't have to happen. But it's what she wanted. She wanted to be gone from our lives, Craig. It's what she chose." Albert said.

"Is that…" Craig felt like he wasn't all there. His head was light. He could feel the worry in his stomach though. People would leave him; that's what they did. He wanted to ask if that was why he didn't live with her after the divorce. But the words didn't come out. His father didn't seem to notice and continued on.

"So you really don't remember the nights she wouldn't be home? Don't you remember who tucked you into bed at night, Craig?" Albert questioned. He wanted Craig to know that he had always been there. He wasn't the one who had an affair and ruined their home situation. Why wasn't Craig looking at him? Didn't he understand?

"Um, I guess," Craig managed to say.

"You don't remember the lies? The excuses she'd have when she'd arrive a day late from visiting relatives in Calgary. I knew where she was at. And she never told me the whole truth. Not even at the very end of the divorce arrangements. She never gave me an answer either. I didn't get a reason."

Craig was thankful that they hadn't started eating yet. He kept a hand on his stomach. He was sure he wouldn't be able to keep from vomiting much longer. He didn't want to be aware of all this.

"The mysteries of the universe are infinite to me. Maybe it was my work schedule. Maybe it was the sex. At least they kept that out of our house, out of our bed," Albert continued on, his tone full of resentment.

Craig shot up and made his way for the door. He had no idea where he was going or how he would make it home. He just knew he couldn't take it anymore. He was on the street when he heard his father call out his name.

"Craig! Where are you going?"

"I cannot listen to anymore of that!" Craig exclaimed.

"I just thought that you should know."

"You talked about my mother like she was…" Craig couldn't even say the words. "I will sit and listen to you talk about how she broke your heart and you can't trust her or me because I know you were hurt about the whole situation but I will not listen to that. She's not alive to defend herself! And she's my mother!"

"I told you about this so you know what kind of a man Joey Jeremiah is."

Craig shook his head. "I don't believe you. No, no. I don't understand this night at all!"

"You think that you and Angie are going to play house with Joey and his new girlfriend of the moment. Is that what you think?"

"You don't know what it's like there. You have no right to judge that," Craig paused and took in a sharp breath. "I don't know why you have to make such a huge deal about Joey's anyway. I was ready to come home before tonight! But…"

"But what?"

"You seem like the same person you always were."

What was all this for, Albert wondered. Any change he had made, any progress, any attempt to his son to love and appreciate him had failed. His son was going to hold his mistakes over his head till the day he died. Maybe he messed up. Maybe it was his son who always screwed up. Albert knew he had to get out of there before something else happened. Albert started to walk away. He could hear the footsteps behind him.

"Oh come on, Dad! I don't know what you want me to do! If I come home, I have to be able to talk about this stuff. I can't do the walking on eggshells anymore," Craig tried to explain. "Dad!"

"Are you talking to me or are you talking to Joey?" Albert barked out. Craig was always going to be picking Joey's side. Joey wasn't even family. He felt his blood pound through his veins.

"That's not fair!"

"Life's not fair. You know, Joey's is better for you. This way you can kiss your potential goodbye. Settle for some interesting little goth girl,"

"Don't talk about Ashley like that!"

"Your marks can drop and then one day you can take over the car lot."

Craig couldn't stand it anymore. He lunged at his father, pushing him hard from behind. The next thing he knew, he was on the concrete sidewalk. He stayed still for a moment, trying to process what just happened. Did he collapse? Why? His face hurt, Craig realized as he brought his fingertips up to his cheek. It happened. It really happened again.

"Craig, I'm sorry," Albert said and reached out for his son. He pulled his hand away and stood up when he saw Craig's anger.

"Why do you make everything we do about Joey?" Craig demanded. "It's not Joey's fault that you hit me. That's your fault."

Albert nodded rapidly, still wondering if there was a way to fix this. Things were moving too quickly. He couldn't even be sure of his true intention anymore. He just knew he wanted his kid back and now his kid didn't want him. "It won't happen again."

"Are you seriously saying that to me again? I'm not stupid, I'm not going to fall for it anymore. It won't change, ever."

Albert simply stood there watching his son for a moment. Craig was rocking back forth some slightly on his heels, like he was debating on taking off running. Or charging at him. He could see there were tears in his eyes but he knew they were angry ones. He didn't mean to take it that far. It was hearing about Joey's romantic life. It reminded him of Julia. Julia leaving. Then his son left him as well. It may have been out of their control but Craig made it happen, in a way. He wanted to be gone. What kind of son does that? Albert stopped himself and started to go for his car.

"You should thank me. I just gave you what you always wanted. Now you can continue staying with Joey," Albert said while shakily fumbling with his car keys.

"It won't change ever!" Craig repeated loudly. His breath stopped in his throat as he watched his father turn around and come back towards him. He didn't move, not even to brush the tear off his cheek.

"You are right about one thing, it wasn't all about Joey. It was about you. You are the one who took everything I gave you for granted. You are the one who showed no consideration for anyone but yourself. You are the one who screws up," Albert said and with each sentence pointed an angry finger at his son. "You are the one who left," he said with the most bitterness.

Craig just shook his head in response. He didn't tear his eyes from his father's angry gaze. He didn't blink as he watched his father retreat back to his car. He felt the adrenaline rush through him. He pounded on the passenger side window. "You are the one who screws up! It's won't change, ever!"

He watched as his father zipped out of the parking space and into traffic. It was then that Craig allowed a sob to escape from his throat. He couldn't believe this had just happened. This was the last thing he had expected to happen tonight. He touched his throbbing cheekbone. What was Joey going to say? Craig wondered as he started walking for home. He stopped longer than necessary at the street light. He watched the lights changed from green to red and the traffic lights zoom by him. He finally started to move, barely aware of where his body was taking him. Things looked familiar, but all too different because he wasn't hardly seeing them at all. He might as well be in another town.

He was in front of a very familiar house now. The lights were on and he could see her. He watched as Ashley gave her stepbrother a playful shove before stacking the plates to clear the table. He got a glimpse of Kate Kerwin in the background. He wondered who was doing the dishes. Craig felt something rumble inside of him. It had been awhile since he had felt that awkwardness and that strange curiosity about Ashley's family. What was he doing here? She wouldn't understand what just happened. His face ached and his heart throbbed. He was sure his heart couldn't ache anymore.

He started walking again and kept circling around until he felt like his legs were going to give out. So he gave in and knocked at Sean's door.

"Hey man," Sean greeted and looked over Craig's face. He tried not to react too much. He knew Craig would hate that, so much that it might send him out the door. "What's up?"

"Can I hang out here for awhile?" Craig weakly asked.

"Sure," Sean agreed and motioned inside. "Make yourself at home."

Sean watched Craig sink down onto the couch. "You look beat. Want some ice for your face?" Sean asked. When he got a nod in return, he headed for the freezer.

Craig didn't look at Sean, not even when he took the ice wrapped in the towel. "My face felt like it was exploding," Craig muttered as he pressed it to his cheekbone. His breath came in and made a hissing noise. He struggled to keep from showing any kind of emotional response to the pain or the night's events.

"Hey you don't have to talk about it. I personally am not a big fan of talking. But if you have to get something off your chest go for it," Sean encouraged after a few slightly uncomfortable moments of silence. He could tell Craig was trying to say something, trying to work through whatever was in his head.

"Dinner with my dad didn't go so well. I guess you all knew this would happen. I could see it in your eyes, even though you didn't want to say it. You were all right. I feel like a freaking idiot."

"This isn't something that anyone wants to be right about," Sean had to say. He watched Craig's eyes move around the room but he knew he wasn't seeing much. The guy was in his head.

"I wish I would just…pick up a chair and throw it at him. But most of the time I feel like I'm five years old around him."

Sean just nodded.

"You wouldn't act that way. You wouldn't act like a little girl," Craig said and clenched his fist. His anger was like waves, some for his father and some for himself.

"Craig, he's your dad. I think it's way different. It's not some guy at school or whatever."

"This is all so fucked up," Craig said softly through his grinded teeth. He rubbed as his forehead, as if he could rub out the thoughts that were pounding his brain.

"I can't believe this happened again. It was all how it used to be, my mom, Joey, and me…we're all against him apparently. I'm sick of this whole Joey versus my dad thing," Craig continued. Then he came to a realization. "What am I going to tell Joey? I can't hide this. Maybe for tonight but tomorrow I'm going to have huge ass bruises."

"Just tell him the truth. I doubt it will be a big shock."

"I don't want to get Robert involved. I don't want all that again."

"I'm sure this time it would be a lot simpler," Sean encouraged.

"I'm just so tired of this. This is the last time. This is it," Craig paused. He was shaking now. "I can't do this. I'd just rather not go home."

"Craig, you have to go home," Sean said and nervously smiled. Where was Craig going with this? His mood reminded him of the first time Craig had popped pills and his freak out on the rooftop during their nights of casual summer drinking. Sean got the sense from those moments that Craig was trying to run from something and took things too far. So it didn't surprise him when Craig suggested that they should literally run away.

"I just hate having to depend on Joey for this shit. I just hate everything about this. I just want to do it all on my own. It's safer that way. Come on, let's just take off. Maybe for a few days. Maybe longer. You hate living with Tracker," Craig tried.

"Craig, you have to deal with this," Sean said firmly but compassionately.

* * *

Craig stopped a few steps before the back door. He could see Joey's silhouette in the kitchen. He glanced over at Sean and didn't care if he looked panicked. Sean stepped in front of his friend and opened the back door. He gently put a hand on Craig's back and ushered him into the house. Sean watched as Craig immediately dropped his head and put a hand up to conceal his injured face. Craig was going to try to sneak by his stepfather, who was busy folding laundry and only gave him a small greeting. Look up, Sean silently pleaded.

"Craig, tell him," Sean spoke up.

Joey glanced back at the door and saw Sean close the door and remained by it. "Hey Sean. Tell me what, Craig?" Joey said, his tone still light hearted. Craig wasn't facing him. He had stopped just beyond the kitchen table.

Craig realized he wasn't going to make it. He dropped his hand but didn't turn around just yet. He felt himself floating away a little. Then he turned around.

"Craig! What happened?" Joey exclaimed once he saw the blood on his stepson's swelling face.

"I got in a fight," Craig said in a quick and soft tone.

"With who? I thought you were with your dad tonight. Why is Sean here?" Joey questioned. Joey couldn't believe he was this slow. A fight. With his dad. It happened, didn't it?

Craig fidgeted some. "With my dad."

"With your dad? A fight? It's never been a fight Craig. How can you call it that when he's the only one..."

"Oh trust me, it was definitely a fight this time."

Joey refrained from asking about the details, although he wanted to know that Craig managed to pop his father good. Maybe that would give him some closure. But judging from Craig's moody expression, he was wrong.

"Are you okay?" Joey asked and took a step forward. He reached out to touch Craig's face and watched him flinch.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Craig replied without skipping a beat. That phrase was so easy to say.

"Did he…" Joey wasn't even sure how to ask. This time he rubbed Craig's arm. He didn't jerk quite so violently this time.

"He just…" Craig's eyes moved over to Sean. Craig gestured to the cut on his swelling cheekbone.

Sean noticed the tears in Craig's eyes. "Hey, uh, I'll talk to you tomorrow, Craig," Sean said, eager to dismiss himself. He wasn't supposed to be seeing this. He watched as Craig delayed a response for a moment and then finally gave him a quick nod. Sean wasn't bothered when neither Joey or Craig watched him exit out the back door.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" Joey asked warmly. Craig still hadn't moved from the spot where he had stopped him to inquire about dinner with his father. His stepson was still wearing his coat.

Craig shook his head and shrugged. "I'm not feeling anything. All I'm feeling is not wanting to feel anything."

"It's okay to be upset about this."

"But I'm not. All I care about is making sure that I never have to think about this ever again. I just want it gone."

"You can't do that, Craig. You can't just expect yourself not to have responses to something like this," Joey tried to explain. His heart was speeding up a bit. All the progress they had made seemed to be set back to the day Craig first moved in. Maybe that wasn't true. But he feared it was. Craig wanted to isolate himself from everyone and pretend he didn't care. That always got his stepson into trouble.

"Okay," Craig gave in. He felt beaten down enough already. He was surprised he hadn't dropped to the floor. "I'm just really tired."

"Yeah. Of course you are," Joey said quickly. "Why don't you wash up and head to bed?"

Craig nodded and wiped his face once more. He slowly turned and began to trudge through the living room and up the stairs. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his stepfather going for the telephone.

* * *

Craig crept out of his room and paused on the stairs. He sat down on the top step and listened intently. He had seen his social worker's car in the driveway. He waited a few moments, silently debating whether or not to go down on his own. He knew Joey would come into his room and encourage him down if he didn't. And if he didn't, the conversation with his social worker would probably happen in his room. He couldn't escape this.

"He seems numb," Craig heard Joey say. "All he says is that he doesn't want to think about this. He just wants it to go away."

"This conversation will hopefully help him start to come to terms with his recent interaction with his father. Want to call him downstairs?" Craig heard Robert ask.

Joey stopped dead at the bottom of the stairs. He wasn't expecting to see Craig sitting there. He climbed the stairs and paused near Craig. "Hey, buddy. You ready for this?"

Craig gave a small nod and stiffly walked down the stairs. He watched as Joey sat down next to his social worker on the couch. He instinctively raised his hand up to the bruise on his face and then quickly shifted his eyes. He didn't want to do this. He kept repeating that to himself as he crossed over and sat down in an armchair, away from Joey and Robert.

"How are you doing?" Robert asked.

"Please…can we just talk about it?" Craig said softly.

"How did dinner go with your dad last night, Craig?"

He wanted to say it was fine. Just using that normal phrase would make all this tension go away. But his face still hurt and his heart felt heavy. He touched the bruise on his cheek again. "Not so well."

"What happened?"

Craig looked around the room frantically. "Things have been going so well these past few weeks. I don't understand this at all. I keep going over it in my mind…and…"

"What happened last night, Craig? How was dinner with your dad last night?"

Craig shrugged and gestured to his swollen cheekbone. "I found out things aren't going to change. He's the same. We got into a fight…I pushed him and he hit me."

"What were you fighting about?"

Craig glanced over at Joey and then quickly averted his eyes. "Um…just…"

"Craig? Do you want it to be just us talking?" Robert prompted.

"No, um, it's okay. It's just…" Craig glanced over at Joey again. "You upset him. I mean…it's just always really awkward when I talk about you…how things are here."

Joey took a deep breath. They never were going to bury the hatchet. If it hadn't happened yet, they never would. Joey felt the anger shoot through him as he thought about how Craig had to be the punching bag or sounding board for Albert's resentment. Why didn't he come after him?

"Has this been going on for awhile?" Joey couldn't help but ask.

"No. There hasn't been anything like this, I swear. He hasn't been hitting me."

"Has anything else happened? Any pushing or shoving? Any times you notice that he's tense?" Robert questioned.

"He just has a bad temper okay? And it's me. There's been a few times where he grabs me and shakes me but it's…me."

"Craig, you need to tell someone if something like this is happening. If…" Robert started.

"I didn't know, okay?" Craig interrupted. "Maybe a little but not really. It just felt normal."

"What's normal?"

Craig ran a hand through his hair. "I don't think I can talk about this. Please, just don't make me talk about this."

"What's up?"

"You are just…it's making things go too fast. I can't make sense of this right now."

"It's okay. You are doing everything just fine. Joey and I just want to know about some of the things that have happened. You mentioned that there's been a few times where he grabs you and shakes you. Can you tell us about that?"

"Um, it's actually kind of hard to remember. I don't like remembering it," Craig mumbled. He glanced up and met Robert's eyes for a moment. "It didn't seem like that big of a deal at the time. I just…don't do things right and sometimes he'd shake me. I think he thinks I'm not paying attention so he…has to get my attention."

"Why didn't you tell me about this?" Joey asked, maybe a bit too forcefully.

"I don't know. I just wanted to forget. I don't know."

"Craig, you need to be open with us about these types of things. It might not seem like details you need to remember, but it's still something we have to know about," Robert said.

"It's just embarrassing okay? I don't want to talk about it. It just reminds me of what a loser I am, alright?" Craig finally snapped.

"Craig, this isn't your fault!" Joey exclaimed.

"I know! But I'm ashamed alright?"

"I know. And that's normal. Everything you are feeling right now is normal for your situation," Robert tried to soothe.

"I can't believe this. I thought I was going to be going home soon. I really thought I was. I thought that things had changed. And they won't change, ever."

"We're going to keep you safe. We're going to have you meet with him when you are around me, okay?"

"No, I don't want to see him ever again."

"Okay, that's fine too. That's fine if that's how you feel right now."

Craig nodded rapidly. "So that's it right? This is done with?"

"There's just one finally thing we have to do and we're done. Then we'll leave you alone," Robert said and paused to watch Craig for a moment. "Can you lift up your shirt, so I can see your back? Just to make sure you are okay."

Craig stood up and moved away. "No. I don't want this. Nothing else happened, I swear."

"Craig, I know. But we have to do this," Joey tried.

"You guys are treating me like a little kid. I hated all this the over a year ago when the whole hospital thing happened. I'm a year older now. Just stop this."

"Can I take you into the bathroom and you raise your shirt and show me your back?" the social worker tried.

The adults watched Craig stare off for a moment, his jaw tense and his eyes unblinking. "Fine," Craig agreed, his tone full of defeat. So he trudged up the stairs after Robert and entered the bathroom. He kept his gaze on the floor. He didn't want to look in the mirror; that would make this situation all too real. It might make him feel even more outside of himself than he already was.

"I'm just going to raise the back of your shirt a little," Craig heard Robert say. He flinched a little at the touch and the cool air on his bare skin.

Craig imagined all the files on him during this moment. The medical descriptions of the bruises they found on him that day when he overdosed and everyone then found out the truth about Craig. The social worker knew that his father used to take a belt to him and if that had happened recently, there would be the welts.

"I know you don't like this," the social worker soothed. "Almost done. Can you raise your shirt so I can see your stomach now?"

Craig sighed a little and stiffly raised his shirt. They knew to check out his stomach too because they had seen the ugly bruises on his side from where his father kicked him. Craig shifted uncomfortably as he realized that he probably had even less modesty in that moment over a year ago when they looked over his whole body for evidence of abuse. He was thankful he was unconscious for it because he didn't think he could handle something like that. This was bad enough. The self hatred was eating at him.

"We're done. All done. You did great," Robert praised.

Craig just shrugged in response and continued to ignore his reflection in the mirror. He clenched his fist some. If he saw his reflection he'd probably fly at the mirror in rage. Everything was coming back to him and he remembered how he could barely stand himself when the abuse was so frequent. He couldn't believe he had almost forgotten the shame.

He felt himself floating along as he followed the social worker back downstairs.

"Happy?" Craig snapped at his stepfather. He looked away when he saw his bewildered expression.

"I'm proud of you for going through all this," Joey said calmly.

Craig was silent for a moment and then managed to speak. "I'm sorry," he apologized to his stepfather for his rudeness. He then glanced over at his social worker. "I know I'm supposed to talk about what happened but I just…can't…today."

"That's fine. We'll talk when you are ready, okay? We're here for you," Robert reassured.

Craig nodded and let that be his goodbye. He felt like all his physical and emotional strength had dripped out of him and he was running on fumes. As Craig drug his dead tired body up the stairs he could hear them already discussing him.

"He seems so angry. Sometimes at the wrong person. It's like he's angry at everyone but his father," he could hear Joey saying.

Craig just shook his head. He was too tired to go down and respond. He entered his bedroom and closed the door, anxious to block out his stepfather and social worker. He grabbed his cell phone off his desk and sank down into his bed. He didn't even think, just punched in the numbers. He listened to the ring. With each repeated jangle he felt his heart sink deeper into the pit of his stomach. He felt so raw.

"Hi, away from the phone right now. Please leave a message," Ashley's voicemail recording stated.

Then he remembered their current situation. It was strange how it had completely slipped his mind. "Hey, I guess you are still avoiding me or whatever. I just wanted to talk. Things are…never mind. I get the message."

* * *

"Come on, Craig. Let's talk about this," Ashley tried. She had first tried to approach him the moment she'd entered the school and laid eyes on him. The phone message made her worry and once she saw the bruise on his face, she knew they had to talk.

"Oh now you want to talk to me?" Craig snapped back and flung his backpack over his shoulder. He glanced over at her and saw that she was pushing though the other students in an effort to keep up with him. He was out the school doors now. Man did he want to be out of there.

"Yeah I do. Look, about the other night…I just said that maybe we needed space because you didn't know how you felt about me. I thought…"

"Are you always like this?" Craig demanded and stopped to face her.

"Yeah, I'm always like this," Ashley said, her tone a little hopeless. She shrugged and sank down onto an picnic bench. "I think too much and sometimes act too quickly. I get scared and I want to get away. I'm always like this."

"You couldn't even take my phone call. Ashley, I needed you."

"Craig, I didn't check my messages until this morning, I swear. I didn't know this was going to happen!"

"Yeah right. You were still trying to punish me because I can't…say those words to you," Craig snapped.

"I'm sorry. I should've realized that it would be hard for you," Ashley tried to explain. She hated it when he was upset. His sadness and anger were always blurred some and she never knew if he would punch a wall or breakdown into tears. Right now he seemed like a caged rat, looking for a way to get out. "I don't know how else to reassure you that I wasn't avoiding you. The second I saw you today, I knew."

"You…you don't understand what it's like when the one person who is supposed to love you really hates your guts."

Ashley felt terrible. She should have known that it would be hard for him. But the thing was that she didn't see his troubled past when she looked at him. Was she supposed to take it into consideration with every conversation they had? She couldn't. That was what he was afraid of, she knew.

"I don't know if it's my place to say anything." She felt Craig sit down next to her. His eyes were still shifty but he seemed calmer now.

"No, please do."

"I read somewhere once that a parent act aggressive if they are feeling unloved by their children or spouse. And it's probably all imagined to a certain extent. Or they make themselves difficult to love."

Craig is thoughtful for a moment, "That actually makes sense."

He glanced around the school yard for a moment. There was only a few kids lingering by the doors at the entrance to the school. Strange how he hadn't even noticed. "Last night I had this crazy dream. I'm always having crazy dreams so it's not that unusual I guess."

Craig looked over at Ashley. She was simply watching him. So he continued. "I was at my dad's, in my bedroom, pacing around. I was angry. And afraid. I told myself to stop being afraid so I flung open my bedroom door. I did it loudly and I never have done that before because he hates noise like that, the slamming of doors. I started beating my fists against my father's door and the walls outside of the room. I could hear him yelling, telling me to stop it. But I didn't stop. I was tired of being scared. So I stood up to him."

He swallowed hard. "The door flung open and I knew it was a mistake. I was trying to walk away but he was coming after me. Pushing me. I almost fell down the stairs. He was still after me. I thought maybe I could find my mother. She'd be in the kitchen, I figured. I just wanted to find anyone. Anyone who could make it stop."

"Then I saw her. She was outside with Joey, by his car. I think she might have been leaving. So I go back up to my room. Later on I sneaked downstairs. My mother was still there!" Craig said and smiled a little at that thought. Then he frowned because he was about to tell the worst part. "I can't remember what all happened. I know my parents were both in the room. My mom had to kill my father. But…he just turned into a wolf. I tried to challenge it and the wolf tried to follow me as I went upstairs to my bedroom. Finally it backed away and sank into the floor. "

"I really thought that it would be over now. I remember I felt happy and disturbed all at once. But I could go to bed now. I could sleep now. As I was passing my father's bedroom, the door opens and there he is. He was giving me that look. And I realized it will never be over."

"Why would I dream something that horrible?" Craig asked after a moment of silence.

"It's probably just your brain's way of saying that you are still trying to come to terms with how he treated you," Ashley replied after a moment.

"I thought that finally standing up to him would make me feel better. But it just makes things seem even more out of control."

"Thank you for telling me all this," Ashley whispered after some silence. She curled her hand around his. "It's moments like these that are more important than I love you's."

"But you need to hear it, don't you? The I…"

"It just feels important to me sometimes. I think too much, you know that," Ashley paused and could see a glimmer of fear in his eyes. "But I think that if we keep talking like this, we'll be okay."

"I don't think…I can say," Craig paused and hoped she would understand what he meant. "that right now. My head is a mess. So I'll understand if you think that we need space or whatever."

"I don't think that."

"You don't?" Craig asked hopefully. "I mean it's fine if you don't want to date anymore but…I need you here."

"I'm here. I'm going to say it because I mean it, but you don't have to say anything back. Or say whatever comes into your mind," Ashley said and took a deep breath. "I do love you, Craig."

Craig shifted his eyes around some. But then he met her gaze. He just nodded and then found something to say that felt right, "This feels safe."

* * *

**Authors Note: **Hope that those of you who are still reading are enjoying the direction this story has taken. It's surprised me some, but I think I'm getting into the swing of things. This chapter started the shifting of gears. Craig's substance abuse issues aren't forgotten but something else has to take place. Up next is a bit of a shocker. It's one of the events I had planned all along. Like this chapter, it's going to be titled after an episode. "Holiday" isn't going to be anything remotely close to what went down in the episode. I hope you enjoy it. It's something I've never seen done in a Craig fic before.

Oh, also have to include my usual disclaimer that I am no social worker and don't know the details on how a situation like this would be treated. I just know what makes for good angst!


	18. Holiday

**18. Holiday**

* * *

_**The Waiting**_

Craig's gaze was fixed on the wall but he wasn't seeing the shifting lights of the Christmas tree. The alternating red and green glow was the only illuminating light; he kept the rest of the living room lights off. Everyone was in bed but he couldn't get himself to go to sleep. With his foot, he nudged a crumpled piece of wrapping paper on the floor. Craig felt like he was waiting for something. He wasn't sure what. The Christmas holiday had come and gone so it wasn't like when he was a kid and excited for the presents he'd receive on Christmas morning. No, it definitely wasn't that. He didn't expect much here. It was around the holidays that he was even more unsure of where he belonged. Joey urged him that he was part of the family. Sometimes he wondered if his stepfather was growing exasperated with his hesitancy to trust him and his family. They were trying, he knew that.

_Craig was surprised when Joey's mother reached out to embrace him. "Hope to see you soon, Craig," she said warmly and rubbed small circles on his back._

"_Yeah. That would be really great. Thank you for just…being so understanding. And being here. The gifts," Craig managed to say and did mean it. But everything just seemed strange. Why couldn't he get over this family hang up?_

_Joey's father chose to pat him on the back and then rub his shoulder warmly, "No problem. You are part of the family."_

He knew that was all fake. They were warm towards him out of sympathy, not because they genuinely wanted him around. Joey had to have spilled the intimate details about his growing estrangement with his father. That was still boiling up, Craig could feel it. He could still feel it brewing and he didn't think the past few phone conversations were the end of it. The last phone call had been particularly brutal.

"_Craig, your dad is on the phone," Caitlin said cautiously. She watched as Craig's face fell. In that moment, he suddenly looked much younger. In those moments she could see the scared boy at home with Albert Manning. Then the look shifted and he looked like her comment wasn't registering with him at all._

"_I can tell him that you aren't here," she offered after a few moments of silence.._

"_No, it's fine," Craig managed to say and went for the phone. He took it from the kitchen table and headed for the stairs._

"_Stay down here and talk, okay?" Caitlin requested._

_Craig stopped dead and nodded. He felt like he was holding a 20 pound weight and not a small cordless phone. Things were crashing down again. He put the phone up to his face and said a quiet hello._

"_I'm fine," he answered coolly as he father asked how he was doing. _

_Caitlin watched him closely. Craig had no emotion on his face. He wasn't saying anything._

"_Okay, I guess," she heard him say distantly and he then clicked off the phone. Caitlin approached him but he was quick to abandon the phone and sprint up the stairs. _

"_What happened?" Caitlin inquired as she pursued him._

"_I need to be alone," Craig muttered as he went into his bedroom. He pushed on his bedroom door, eager to shut Caitlin out. That was the last person he wanted to see right now. No, he couldn't let her see him like this. He didn't pay attention to the fact that he didn't hear the door latch; right now he had other things on his mind. His first thought was to shut it all off with pills, with liquor. He went to his chest of drawers and started to dig around in his sock drawer. Then he stopped. That wouldn't take away the itch, the burn. He was looking for something else. What just happened was his fault and he had to deal with that. He went straight for his desk and took out a razorblade._

"_I don't think you should be alone right now," Caitlin said as she entered his room without knocking or giving a warning. Her mouth dropped as she saw a razorblade in his hand. She froze for a moment, stunned by the reality of this situation. Prior to this moment, she'd just been the sounding board for Joey. She knew that Craig was troubled, but it hadn't scared her until this point. _

"_Craig…" she started and watched him glance up at her with only mild interest. That only made her heart pound harder. He didn't care that she was here; that's how involved in his head he was._

"_Don't do this. Don't let him do this to you.," Caitlin encouraged as she kneeled down beside him._

"_He said that I got what I wanted," Craig mumbled._

_Caitlin shook her head, "I don't understand." She had her hand on his now, ever so delicate. She wasn't sure he could even feel it. But she hadn't attempted to take the blade from him._

"_He said I got what I wanted," Craig repeated and rocked back and forth for a moment. "He said he's giving up all parental rights. He said then he won't be my father anymore."_

_Caitlin's first reaction was relief. It was probably in Craig's best interest that his father cut off all ties. But the teenager wasn't seeing it that way. It was an insult to him. She imagined that he felt abandoned and that his life was falling apart again. She was sure that no child ever wanted to truly be separated from their parent, even if there were bout of intense hatred for them._

"_He might not have meant that," Caitlin assured. "He might have been saying that to get a reaction from you. Or to hurt you maybe? You two just had a big blow out a few weeks ago right?"_

"_What if he does mean it?"_

"_I don't know how easy it is to just give up your child," Caitlin commented._

"_It was easy for him! He just basically threw me away."_

"_No, what I meant was I don't know how easy it is legally."_

"_People give up their kids for adoption all the time. What would I do if he just threw me away like that?"_

"_Craig, not much would change. You'd stay right here at Joey's. Joey would most likely adopt you."_

"_I don't understand why Joey lets me stay here," Craig thought out loud._

"_Honey, can you give me the razorblade?" Caitlin had to ask. Craig still held the small blade between his thumb and forefinger. He was holding it too close to his wrist for Caitlin to tear her eyes from it._

_Craig stared back at Caitlin, not sure if he could give up this small amount of power that he had. It was strange having her here at this moment, letting him into his world like this. _

"_When was the last time you cut?" Caitlin asked quietly._

"_I can't even remember," Craig said. That wasn't important. It might be important to some people but he needed this now and how many days, months, or years didn't matter. He needed to do something. He needed that release._

"_Don't lose all that. Just hand me the razorblade."_

"_You don't think that I'll do it with you here? Because I will. Just let me."_

"_I don't want you to."_

"_I don't care," Craig honestly dismissed._

"_Come on. Just give me the razorblade," Caitlin soothed. She still had her hand on his. _

_Craig moved his wrist closer to the blade and felt his muscles tense up as he tried to resist. He glanced over at Caitlin briefly._

"_Just give it to me and it's over with," she tried again. "Come on."_

"_Don't let him hurt you anymore than he has," Caitlin said softly as she brought her other hand closer to the blade. Her fingertips laid lightly on his and she slowly made contact with the blade. _

"_You'll tell Joey about this."_

"_No. Not if you aren't comfortable with that. I won't keep it a secret from him if you cut yourself but if you don't cut, there's nothing to hide. He wouldn't have to know anything."_

"_You're going to keep the razorblade from me," Craig muttered, still not letting go._

"_Just for tonight. Just until the urge to cut has gone away," Caitlin said and watched him make eye contact with her. "It wouldn't be a punishment. You don't have to feel bad about it. It would just be to make things easier on you." _

_She took the blade from him and soothed, "There you go, honey. It's all over with."_

He didn't think that Caitlin had kept her promise about keeping the incident a secret from Joey. He could feel their concern through the walls. He'd picked up on the tail ends of hushed conversations. Craig knew it was about him by their eyes. They looked slightly guilty, like they had been exchanging secrets. Or maybe they just knew it would make his stomach turn and he wouldn't want to meet their eyes because he was terrified of what they really saw when they looked at him.

What did they see? He wasn't sure what he saw, or what he thought of, when he thought of himself. They told him that there were many parts of him. He wasn't just the kid with the troubled past with his father; he wasn't just the kid who got hit. They saw the musician in him, the photographer, the son, the friend. He knew he was in pieces too but he didn't think it was anything like that. There were all these things that had happened to him and they stayed with him. But it all felt fractured in a way. He couldn't put the pieces together. He didn't dare tell people about those kinds of thoughts. He didn't tell Ms. Sauvé about how sometimes it all got so intense that his body would go numb and he'd wonder if his bones were broken and that was why he couldn't move. He could practically imagine the jagged cracks in his bones, pushing at the surface of his skin like the a tree root trying to escape from the ground. It wasn't natural. He could see at a glance that his limbs were distorted and disfigured from the injuries. But a second later it was gone and he could move again. He wasn't physically broken, of course.

Craig felt a hand on his shoulder and quickly turned his head around. He'd gotten too lost in his mind again and forgot where he was.

"Hey, is everything okay?" Joey asked as he sat down on the couch next to his stepson.

"Oh. Sorry," Craig apologized. Did he disturb his sleep? He was doing that weird worrying thing again. He'd been doing that since that fateful dinner with his father. He always felt so embarrassed about his jumpiness but couldn't really help it.

"Craig, it's okay. You can stay up if you want to. It's your house too. Your holiday break."

"I just couldn't sleep," Craig tried to explain. Why did he think that everything he did had to have a reason? This wasn't something he had to fix. He didn't do anything wrong. Did he? "Tonight was just really nice."

"I'm glad you had a good time."

"It's so different with Caitlin," Craig mumbled after a moment of silence.

"You mean with her living here? How are you adjusting to that?"

"No. That's not what I mean really. I like her here all the time. It's just…interesting how you are with her. And my mom too."

"It's not like I'm replacing your mom with Caitlin. I love your mother very much. I still do."

"I'm not making sense, am I?"

"Just keep talking," Joey encouraged. He was used to these late night conversations with Craig. He knew that was when he was most likely to open up. Maybe it was that Craig could go to sleep afterwards and the discussion seemed further from his stepson's mind. Joey knew Craig hated to confide and let people in; that made him feel exposed.

"You aren't…like my dad. I mean of course your aren't," Craig said with a nervous smile. "Sometimes I just think about how he'd treat me and my mom and then I think about how you are. And it's not the obvious things like hitting. It's…well say if my dad had a Christmas party, it's like everything would have to be perfect. And it's just not like that here. You don't care if Caitlin drops a dish on the floor. Or if she's not at your side when you talk to someone. Sometimes I really felt like I was his employee or something," Craig explained. He was sure he'd had this realization before. Why couldn't it stick in his mind that Joey wasn't like that?

Joey gave Craig a small smile, "I'm so happy that you feel comfortable. And loved, I hope."

"Yeah."

Joey rubbed Craig's arm for a few moments, "You fit in pretty well with the Jeremiah clan."

"I don't know if I really belong here though," Craig said and he could still here his father's words in his head. _…giving up all parental rights. I'm giving you what you wanted. _That wasn't what he wanted. It wasn't. He wasn't choosing Joey. He just wanted to feel like he was safe. Like he belonged somewhere.

"Can you talk to me?" Joey asked after watching Craig gaze across the room, obviously in thought.

"Just thinking about last year," Craig said and shifted uncomfortably. "It's weird how last year I didn't want to be with my dad. And this year he doesn't want to be with me."

Joey wasn't sure what to say to that. His stepson's relationship with his father had to be going in circles in his mind almost constantly. He just wanted this kid to have a bit of a break. "Let's think about this year. Aren't you glad that my mom was here to help out in the kitchen and we didn't have to throw out a turkey because Caitlin forgot to defrost it like she did with the Thanksgiving turkey?"

"For sure," Craig agreed with a smile.

"Happy with your gifts?"

"Yeah. It was nice for your family to bring me something."

"You are part of the family," Joey said with a smile. He was beginning to think this sentence would never stick.

"What do they say about me?" Craig had to question. He was sure where this doubt was coming from.

"Um…I don't know…that you are smart and talented. Obvious that you love Angie very much."

"Are they okay that you didn't get together with like your aunts and uncles or go to their house?" He worried maybe he was just an inconvenience.

"Absolutely. It's been nice having a smaller get together here," Joey said, sensing that Craig was feeling insecure about how he was adamant for keeping the stress level low for Craig and not inviting a large number of people over or encouraging a holiday get-together at a house Craig wasn't familiar with.

Craig picked up on the strange feeling in the air. He was sure that Joey could feel that strange anticipation too, that was why the low-key holiday celebrations. That sensation that something was about to happen. He figured he thought he would snap; that had to be his stepfather's worst fear so they were doing this dance around him. Be careful around Craig, watch his actions, and look out for signs of trouble. For about two weeks after the "incident" with his father, Craig was on edge. He felt trapped. Joey would pull him aside from time to time and tell him to cool down. This just confused him. When he was angry, they would know. He wasn't that angry. He wasn't swinging his fists. What was the problem?

Craig still couldn't pin point it. Something was about to happen. Was he going to do something? He reassured Ms. Sauvé each session that he was fine. He was in control still, despite the falling out with his father. No, he wasn't thinking about harming himself. And he really wasn't. There were moments of course, they came on like waves; some were weak, some were stronger, and they were always present. But somehow his self destructiveness had become almost part of nature. Like it was always there. So he was learning how to manage it. There was no need for them to try to prepare themselves for his next big freak out. Craig didn't think it was coming.

What were they waiting for?

* * *

**_The Caution Sign_  
**

"Craig?" A familiar, but distant voice asked over the phone line.

"Dad?" Craig questioned.

"How have you been?"

"I'm okay," Craig strained to reply and fidgeted some. His father's voice sounded strange. He wasn't sure if he had been crying or if he was tired. He wasn't sure if his father was going to yell at him or tell him how much he missed him.

"I haven't seen you in awhile."

"Yeah. I thought that's how you wanted it. You could have tried to get in contact with me over the holidays too, you know," Craig said and just wanted to forget the holiday break. Returning to school yesterday had helped.

"I was just giving you what you wanted," Albert said.

"I didn't want that. You know I didn't want that," Craig said and couldn't help but feel frightened by the emptiness in his father's voice. It almost didn't sound like him. But then he felt the anger return. His father knew damn well that he had been expecting to return home at some point. But he just had to screw up again. Craig touched his cheek, the exact spot where he had been struck months earlier. He was not going to let that happen again.

"I know you think of Joey as your father. Your mother…"

Craig interrupted with, "I have to go right now. I can't talk right now."

He hastily hung up the phone and tried to breathe normally. His heart pounded. Craig couldn't listen to the complaints about Joey or hear him compare him to his mother, the woman he assumed he sometimes hated the most. What did that say about how he felt about him? The phone rang again. Craig stood by it, staring.

"Get the phone, Craig!" Angie reminded from the couch.

Craig nodded and picked it up again. "Hello?"

"I need you right now, Craiggers," Albert said in a low voice.

Craig cringed and replied, "I'm here."

"No, I need you over right now."

"Um, do you think that maybe we could do this tomorrow? I could have Joey call Robert and ask if I could see you. And we could visit tomorrow."

"That's too late," Albert said. His son didn't understand the gravity of his moment.

Craig's forehead crunched up in confusion as he wondered what that meant. "Too late?"

"I really messed things up with you, I know."

Craig felt the residue of anger melting away ever so slightly. He couldn't find a thing to say however. He still felt the tug of hesitancy. They weren't supposed to be in contact out of his social worker's office.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you," Albert said.

"I don't know what to say right now," Craig mumbled. He looked down at Angie, who was tugging on his sleeve.

"Can we have ice cream, Craig? Angie asked with a charming smile.

"Um…Angie, can you wait a second?" Craig asked, his voice shaking.

Angie nodded and stood by her brother, staring up at him with wide chestnut eyes.

"I'm here with Angie right now. Babysitting," Craig explained into the phone receiver.

"That little girl looks so much like your mother. Whenever I saw her, I could have sworn she was a ghost," Albert commented, his voice distant.

Craig's stomach churned. For whatever reason he assumed his dad didn't make that connection. He always figured he thought of him as the used car salesman's daughter or his half sister. No relation to his dad, really. Except that one, through his mother Julia. Craig met Angie's gaze. He could see that ghost too.

"Craig, can I have cereal if I can't have ice cream?" Angie said with a smile and waved her stuffed animal at Craig adoringly.

"Okay, Ang. Cereal. Coming up. Go sit down at the table," Craig managed to say and forced himself to prepare it. His hands were shaking so bad he was surprised that he could even pour the cereal and milk into the bowl without making a gigantic mess.

"Here you go, Miss Angie," Craig cheerfully said to his half-sister as he presented a bowl of Fruit Loops. Don't let her know that you're falling apart, he reminded himself. He smiled and then stepped away from his sister, but stayed within sight of her.

"Dad, are you still there?" He asked.

"I'm here," came a distant reply. "I understand why you killed yourself."

Craig was breathless at those words. His father just said 'killed yourself.' "I wasn't all there when I took those pills," Craig replied.

"I understand. I mean, it's been here before but I never really had a solid reason until now. Now I have a reason. I don't have Julia. I don't have you," Albert said and saying it out loud made it more concrete. He had a concrete reason now. His accomplishments at work were pale in comparison to the family he once had.

"You have me," Craig said, but his response was only heard by the dial tone. Craig clicked off the phone and put his head in his hands. He was trying not to lose all control and sob like a child. His father hadn't directly said it but he could hear the desperation in his voice. Was his father serious? Maybe he hadn't heard him correctly. It would be like him to say that to get him to come over to see him. That was all this was. It had to be.

Craig answered the phone on the first ring this time.

"Craig, I need you back," was the first thing he heard.

"Okay. I'm here for you," Craig said quickly. He wasn't going to take any chances. He knew those moments, of wanting it all to just stop. He knew it because he was the crazy one, the unstable teenager who took handful of pills. And it hadn't killed him yet. His father just needed him there and he'd be fine. He wasn't the one who was supposed to do this.

"I bet you've wished me dead a million times. I remember overhearing you tell a friend that you hoped I would die in a car crash on the way to work."

Craig shook his head, "I don't remember that." Of course he knew it was possible.

"You were only eleven at the time. Eleven and you hated me then. I wonder how early that hate started."

"I don't hate you."

"Come over. I'll make things up to you," Albert said in a soft voice that Craig wasn't used to.

"I can't come over right now," Craig said, nearly choking on the words.

"Forget about Joey for a minute and think about me, Craig," Albert demanded, the softness in his voice gone in an instant.

"It's not about Joey. I can't come over because I'm babysitting Angie right now. I can't leave her alone."

"I'd just be better off gone and out of your life. You hear that, that's the sound of the safety being released."

"What? You have a gun?" Craig wildly questioned. Then he glanced over at Angie to see if she sensed his panic. Keep it together, he urged himself. "No. That's not true. I want it to work this time. Please don't do this to me."

He only heard silence. He cringed and tried, "I'm sorry I left. I'm sorry I got people involved."

Craig listened to a click and then the dull buzzing of the dial tone. His body was stiff and numb. He stayed on the line until the operator's mechanical voice came over the line, "If you'd like to make a call, hang up and try again."

What if I don't get to try again, he wondered.

"If you'd like to make a call, hang up and try again. If you need assistance, stay on the line."

He turned off the phone, then clicked it back on, and dialed his father's number. He felt relief wash over him as he heard his father's voice.

"Dad, I can come over. Just give me a little while, please," Craig said in a rush.

He paced a little once he heard the silence on the other line. He could still hear him breathing, slow and steady.

"Please don't leave me," Craig pleaded.

"Isn't that what I said to you when you left my home, our home?" Albert retorted.

"I'm coming home again. I'll come back tonight. Just…stay."

"Okay," Albert agreed, felt satisfied for a brief moment, and then hung up.

Craig hung up and chewed on his fingernail. He then called up Caitlin's office at the news station. Caitlin wasn't in. Craig knew that wasn't a guarantee she was on her way home; she could be out researching a breaking storyline. He paused halfway through dialing Joey at the car dealership. He realized he had no idea what to say. He hung up the phone and gazed at Angie, who was perched over her dollhouse in the corner of the living room.

Maybe he could put her to bed and head over to his dad's. He was sickened by the thought of leaving Angie alone, but his father was going to kill himself. His father or Angie. His father or Joey. Craig swallowed hard, his throat dry. Why not call the police? He knew the answer to that; he wouldn't want that done to him. He would want his loved one there with him and talk him out of the temporary crisis. That was all this was. He wouldn't know what to say to the police anyway. And if he didn't mean it, the details about this could be released to their family, to his father's co-workers. He couldn't do that. He couldn't disrupt his father's life again. He had to be careful about this. Besides he could fix it. He knew the fix.

Craig began to pace around the living room, occasionally going out to the kitchen to try to busy himself. It felt like hours when he heard the front door open and Angie's delighted cry. He rushed to greet whoever it was.

"Caitlin," Craig sighed with relief.

"I'm glad to see you too," Caitlin said with a smile.

"Hey, uh…I have to run over to Marco's for a bit," Craig said. "I know it's kind of late but I left my math book over there and I need it to do my assignment."

Craig pulled on his coat and paused at the door for Caitlin's permission.

"When were you at Marco's to leave it there? Didn't you need it in school today?" Caitlin questioned.

"Yeah. Uh, I don't know." Craig's head throbbed. That made no sense. "Guess I didn't need it till now."

"Well, okay. Come right back." Caitlin agreed after some hesitation.

"Yeah. To Ashley's and back," Craig reassured and headed down the walk.

"I thought you said you were going to Marco's," Caitlin called out.

"Yeah. Marco's. Math book. See you in a few."

* * *

_**The Warning**_

"Dad?" Craig called out as he stepped into the darkened house.

He squinted around in the dark, waiting for his eyes to adjust. He wandered through the living room, glanced into his father's darkened study, and then went back to the entry way. He gazed up the stairs. It looked even darker up there. Craig suddenly felt like a child who had awoken from a nightmare and was too terrified to open his eyes, let alone get up to race to his parents' bed. He wasn't sure what he were to find, but he didn't think he wanted to go upstairs.

Light would make less surreal but for some odd reason, Craig didn't feel like he had the right to turn on the lights. It wasn't his house anymore. A part of him felt like an intruder and couldn't help but assume if the neighbors saw suspicious activity, the police would be called. But deep down, he knew the real reason was probably that he didn't want to disturb his already agitated father.

He turned to face the kitchen. He wiped his sweaty hands on his pants as he looked around the dark room. He was barely able to make out the appliances. It felt so strange to be back. Craig nearly jumped out of his skin when he realized someone was sitting at the kitchen table.

"Dad?" Craig asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

How could he have overlooked him sitting right there? He was maybe five feet from the guy. Suddenly he realized that this was just like the day when he had come home to find his darkroom torn apart. His father looked the same way, hunched over the table some with his hands clutched tightly together. Craig took a few steps into the doorway connecting the entry way and the kitchen. He stood there, ever so cautious.

"Um, I'm going to turn on a light, okay?" Craig asked.

"Leave them off."

Craig nodded right away. At least he got a reply. At least he knew he wasn't dead. Craig squinted at the table. The wood finish was glimmering in the moonlight. The table was empty. He took a few steps closer to his father. His hands were empty. No gun. Maybe there never was one.

"Um, are you okay?"

"Are you going to stay? You are my son. You are MY son," Albert slurred.

Craig squeezed his fists together. Great, now he'd been drinking. Fantastic. If the guy wasn't out of it before, he definitely was now. "Yep. I'm staying."

"You won't stay for long."

"I will," Craig reassured.

"What did you tell Joey?" Albert said, snarling out the name of Craig's stepfather.

"Um, nothing."

"Oh great, Craig. Smart move. You always were the smart one. Now he's going to call the cops on me."

Craig flinched. "Why are you being mean to me?"

"Why are you being mean to me?" his father said in an imitating whine. "I'm being 'mean' to you because you always screw up."

"Okay, I really don't need this right now. I came over for you because you sounded desperate on the phone," Craig said, feeling exasperated. He couldn't handle his father's mood swings right now. One moment he was desperate, then showing signs of remorseful, which gave back into that irritability he was so familiar seeing.

Craig nearly stopped breathing as he watched his father stand up and move over to him.

"So get out," Albert growled as he passed by him and stumbled into the living room.

Craig paused at the front door but then followed his father into the living room. "I don't want to leave."

"Well that's something new," Albert said, spinning around. "You've always wanted to leave before. Even when you were just a little kid. You were always wanting to go see your mom and Joey. Joey. I wish that man would be gone from our lives. But death won't even give us that. And then you up and leave me for the same man your mother did."

"Well, I'm staying now," Craig tried. He didn't like this mood of his father's. Something was different about it. There seemed to be less anger, more despair.

"I just can't stand it anymore. I can't stand the lies and deception and death. And I'm tired of being alone."

"I'm here. You aren't alone."

"You need to leave now."

"But you wanted me here," Craig protested.

"I did. But I know you won't stay. You will go running off to school and call Joey from there, if you even stay until tomorrow morning," Albert accused. His son was always looking for a reason to be around Joey and Angela. _Perfect Family_; that was what was scrawled across that scrapbook of the photos of the car salesman and his daughter. Albert had never felt more anger and jealousy than he had in that moment. Why didn't Craig value him as much as he valued Joey and Angela? Why didn't he look up to him, want him around?

"Please stop talking about Joey. He doesn't have anything to do with us."

"He has everything to do with us."

"I can't do this," Craig honestly said. Things were so unreal here in the dark. Maybe he was asleep. He could have sworn he had dreamt of this before.

"I know you can't. That's why I'm doing this. I'm making it easier on you."

"I don't know what you are talking about."

"Go outside. You don't want to see this."

"What?"

"Just go home, Craig." His father dismissed, waving his hand as he trudged towards his study.

"This is my home. And you are my dad," Craig tried and followed a few steps forward. He was surprised that he found himself saying this, but he really couldn't help it. He didn't understand why he either had to be here or he had to be gone, why things had to be so final. Couldn't he just be here in this moment and that proved something?

"You gave this up a long time ago."

"I don't understand what you want me to do! You constantly tell me it's my fault; I screw up. And then you say it's not me. I don't know what I'm supposed to do!" Craig finally said and saw something in his father's eyes.

"You are right," Albert responded soberly. He contradicted himself because of whatever craziness or anger it was that burned inside him. And he had spread that onto his son; he knew he was making him into the same wild version of himself. His son was struggling because of him. He never meant for that to happen. Sometime during all of his efforts to keep things in order, to control them, he had lost control.

"Look, um," Craig started. He pressed his fingers against his lips for a moment and wasn't sure if he should say it. "Let's just call up…"

Albert gave Craig a sharp look and that was response enough. His son didn't finish.

"I don't know what to do! I don't know how to fix this!" Craig finally said. He didn't know what kind of comfort he could offer.

"Craig, it's not about you!" He was starting to realize that all of his actions proved tonight that he couldn't change, ever. He hadn't struck his son but he was playing the same head game of shame and blame. It was just like Craig had said during their fateful last meeting, things won't change ever.

"I don't understand! It's always been about me and my mistakes," Craig responded. His head throbbed with confusion.

"What's about to happen has nothing to do with you. I just want you to understand that."

"I don't understand any of this!" Craig said, his voice shaking. "I don't know what's going on. I don't know what's happening. I don't know what to do."

The study light flicked on, but it didn't aid Craig any as he could barely see through his tears in his eyes. He felt arms around him now.

"You'll be fine. You are nothing like me. You know that right?" Albert soothed with a heavy heart.

"I don't understand any of this," Craig repeated as he choked back a sob.

"You'll be fine. I think this is for the best. Just head up to bed okay?" Albert said and gently touched Craig's cheek, the same cheek he had struck months earlier. He watched his son's eyes dart around the room.

"Things are going to be okay now right?" Craig questioned, half weary and half hopeful. He still wasn't sure he was here. He was always having crazy dreams. This was one of them.

"You will be fine," Albert said, choosing his words carefully. But he meant it. He knew his son was bright and talented. He would be fine. That was something he did have faith in. He had hope for his son. There was hope, but not for himself.

"So if I stay, I can help you. You don't…just don't talk like the way you were before," Craig rambled without thinking. "I want to stay."

Albert smoothed his son's hair and then spoke, "Alright. You can stay. Go upstairs, okay? Go up to your room."

"Why can't we stay down here?"

"You look tired. Don't you want to go to bed?"

Craig's eyes darted around the room as he wondered what the right thing was to do. "Yeah."

"Okay. Just go up to your bedroom and stay there okay? Don't come downstairs."

Craig wanted to believe things were okay now. He nodded.

"You will be okay. I know you will be," Albert said and gave Craig a firm embrace.

Craig nodded again and then he felt his father lightly kiss his forehead.

"Just go upstairs," Albert urged.

* * *

_**The Event**_

Craig sat on the edge of his bed and rocked back and forth. His stomach ache had since worsened. He bit down on his lip and tried to push away any bad memories. He couldn't have the memories now. He had to take care of his dad. His hands were still shaking. He began to scratch at his wrist, looking to feel pain. If he could feel physical pain maybe this was real. He couldn't be sure if it was.

"Oh my God," he whispered as the sound of things being thrown started again.

He almost threw up on the floor. Staying here had been a mistake. Craig reached for the lamp. If he turned out the lights, he could hide. His shaky hand hit the lamp and it nearly tumbled to the floor. Craig steadied it with his shaking hands. He wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. With a sob, he fumbled with the knob. The light went out with a small click. Craig tried to focus on his breathing and how to keep his body from going numb.

Craig jumped, startled. His eyes darted around wildly at an unfamiliar sound. A car engine backfiring, he realized. It was weird acoustics and that's why it sounded closer than it really is, he told himself. It was quiet now. Too quiet. Too still. Had he gone deaf? He could still see though. It was dark but he could see. He just couldn't hear. Was that…no. His mind refused to go there.

Craig pulled his cell phone out of his coat pocket. He crept over to his bedroom door and carefully closed it, trying not to make a sound. If he could hear the noise, his father could hear it even if he was rooms away. He had always assumed that. It was weird logic, but it was logic that kept his father calm and Craig safe. Craig gingerly ran his fingertips over small holes in the door like they were a tender wound. His father had taken off the locks. Craig moved to the wall opposite the door and dropped down to the floor.

"Joey? Joey? I need Joey," Craig whispered into the phone receiver. He could hear Caitlin call for him and words being exchanged in a hurry.

"Craig?" Joey questioned.

"Joey. I need you."

"Craig, are you okay?" Joey asked frantically. In that moment, dozens of scenarios flashed through his mind. What had happened? Did Craig hurt himself? Was he about to?

"No."

"Craig, where are you?"

"I'm at my dad's."

"Why the hell are you there?" Joey nearly shouted. He immediately regretted it because he could hear his stepson start to break down.

"I'm really scared, Joey."

"Okay, I'm coming to get you."

"No," Craig said immediately. He felt pain jab into his stomach as he realized there may not be a solution to any of this. He couldn't leave and Joey couldn't enter.

"What?" Joey asked. He tried to get himself to remove the urgency from his voice. That wasn't helping matters. He urged himself to remain calm.

"You can't com here. It's not safe."

"Why isn't it safe?"

"He has a gun."

Joey nearly dropped the phone. "Okay. I'll have Caitlin call the police from her cell phone and I'll stay with you on this phone."

"Okay, what's happening now, Craig?" Joey asked upon Caitlin's request.

"Nothing. It's quiet. I heard the gun and now it's quiet."

"You heard the gun?"

"Yeah. I mean I think that's what it was. He said he had a gun. But…I've never heard one before. I mean actually heard one where I was there and it wasn't on TV, you know? Maybe it wasn't and he's okay," Craig rambled.

"Where are you right now?"

"In my bedroom."

"Okay. I want you to stay right there. I'm going to hang up this phone and call you back on Caitlin's cell phone okay? I'm going to call you from her cell because I'm driving over there right now and I want to keep talking to you. The police will be there really quick, kiddo."

"No. You can't call me because he might hear it ring. I'll call you okay?"

Joey hesitated. "Okay. I'm hanging up the phone right now."

Craig quickly pushed the button to end the call. He hurriedly punched in Caitlin's cell phone number and made the mistake of hitting the six instead of the nine on the last number. He blinked back tears and canceled the call. He started to punch in the numbers again, saying each one out loud as he struggled to remember Caitlin's number even though he'd never had trouble remembering it before.

He felt like he was in a nightmare. It was the dream where he was in a dark room and trying to turn on the lights. But none of them worked and as he moved around trying each new light, he'd become more upset. Because he was shaking from anxiety he would accidentally knock them to the floor, shattering the bulb every time. Or else his fingers would be covered in an oozing substance similar to honey and they would slide off the knob on the lamps. He couldn't turn them on. All the while the tension was mounting. Someone was in the room with him, he sensed. Or it was the dream where he was hurt and trying to call Joey, only to get the number wrong every time. Only that was happening now. He hated the eerie feeling of dreams colliding with reality. Maybe the dreams were a warning all along.

* * *

**Authors Note: **Wow, all that just reminded me of that Saw/Degrassi crossover I did that one Halloween. Not in content, but just the mood of it. Yes, sometimes my head is a dark place. I'm anxiously awaiting reviews on this. Up next is Craig's reactions to what's just happened.


	19. Shell Shocked

**19. Shell Shocked**

* * *

Even though he heard Joey's voice on the phone, he couldn't help but feel separated from the rest of the world. As he pulled back the curtain and peered out to look over the dark neighborhood, he wondered about the reality of it all. Craig could see the yellow glow of the neighbor's upstairs bedroom. His eyes shifted to the house next door; they always kept their blinds down. Weren't they aware of what was happening? Was this all just happening to him?

"Just stay calm," Joey kept repeating. "The police will be there soon. I'll be there soon."

Craig couldn't reply to Joey anymore. He just kept doing that panicky breathing. His head was starting to feel lighter. He didn't think it was possible to drift away anymore. He curled his fist tight and felt comfort in feeling his nails dig into the palm of his hand. He could feel that he was still here. Craig wondered what happened to those people who totally checked themselves out of reality. If that was an option for him right now, would he take it? Does a person even get to choose that kind of thing?

He looked around his darkened bedroom, suddenly feeling the urge to hide. Things were feeling dangerous again. It was that feeling of danger that had encouraged him to turn off his bedside lamp so his father couldn't find him. He always did that strange childlike rationalizing when it came to his dad. It was like when he was little and refused to sleep with his feet close to the end of the bed because the monster could reach out and cut them off. But this was real and it was happening.

"What's happening now, Craig?" Joey repeated. His stepson had become alarmingly quiet. What was going on in that house?

"What's happening now?" Craig echoed back.

"Are you still in your bedroom?" Joey asked again after a moment of silence. He gripped the steering wheel tighter and stared at the red street light. So close.

Craig's eyes darted around the room, taking in the dense dark shapes. He remembered now. It wasn't like it used to be; books were missing from the shelves, his rock posters weren't on the walls, and he knew the closet would be nearly empty. But it was his desk, bed, and other furniture. He ran his hand across the bedspread as he sank down to the floor. He could remember that texture, that smell. Something familiar was here.

"Yeah, it's my bedroom," Craig confirmed.

It was then that he felt something sharp poke into his brain. He remembered the burn of the fabric as he was pushed onto the bed and then there was the sting of that belt. Craig found himself dragging his fingernails across his arms again. He didn't need a reminder of that now. Because then he would have to try to place when and why that happened and would it happen again. He realized he seemed much smaller in that memory, then again he was beginning to shrink some now. He wasn't sure if he was shrinking away from the situation and going inside his head (all this was much too intense) or if his body really was that small. Why did he feel so childlike all of a sudden? Craig squeezed his eyes shut, trying to chase it all away. When his eyes were open he saw the flashing red and it made his breath freeze in his throat. It was the same red that would flash through his mind as he was struck. Angry red. The red that warns. He closed his eyes again and tried to tell himself that the black of his eyelids was all the comfort he needed right now. Not there, not there…not there at all.

"That's the lights from the police cars," Joey tried to explain after he listened to Craig ramble on for a minute or so, sometimes his voice faded away and he assumed his stepson had set the phone down. He tried to follow his stepson's fragmented dialogue the best he could. The situation was surreal and he couldn't imagine how it was for Craig.

"Craig, I'm outside with the police right now," Joey reassured into the cell phone. "But I want you to stay right where you are, okay? They will come get you."

"No. I want to come outside now," Craig stated sharply. He wanted to move. He told himself to stand but he couldn't do it.

"Stay right where you are," Joey compassionately ordered at the urge of the police officer that stood next to him.

"No. I'm scared," Craig quickly replied. He wasn't even sure what he was refusing. He heard movement downstairs now. His breathing picked up.

"Someone is coming to get you right now. Stay right where you are," Joey reminded and listened to Craig breathe sharp and rapid, and it came over the line like Morse code. He told himself not panic and tried to keep his tone calm as he repeatedly reassured him what was probably happening in the Manning house. "Someone is coming to get you right now."

Craig couldn't fully process that. It was like a concrete wall was in his brain. What was going on? He watched as white hot light cut through the darkness. It stung just as shrill as waking from his worst hangover to bright morning sunlight. It took him a moment but then Craig saw him. Not his father, his brain first stated. He was crazy to think that it would be. His dad…Craig's brain refused to let him finish that thought. Instead it took in the man's police uniform, the golden badge on his chest. He was comforted by his presence but also strangely disturbed; he never imagined a police officer would be in his home. That just wasn't something that was supposed to happen.

He wasn't all too aware of the police officer helping him to his feet. The man's touch seemed foreign and everything else surreal. Something was different about the hallway walls and the staircase seemed to descend forever. Craig thought for sure he would fall, but the man next to him kept urging him on. He blinked at the brightly lit downstairs. It was strange how earlier, while he had that last conversation with his father, it was like they weren't even at home at all. They were in some other world, just stuck. There was nothing, just them.

Joey watched as a police officer led Craig out of the house. He waited a moment before going for him and took that moment to assess Craig; his posture was tense and something in his face said that he wasn't all there. Joey went right for him. "Are you okay?" he asked Craig, gripping the boy's arms.

"What's going on?" Craig asked, frantic. "He's okay right?"

"Did he hurt you?" Joey couldn't help but ask in a demanding fashion. What kind of father did this to their son?

Craig could only shake his head and was barely able to pick up on the look of disbelief on their faces. It was difficult to focus. This couldn't be happening, he kept hearing in his head.

"Craig, can you come with us over to the ambulance so we can check you out?" the officer asked.

"What? Why?" Craig asked and felt himself moving again. The cop was on one side of him and Joey was on the other. Each had a gentle grip on his arm.

"We just want to know if you are okay," the officer reassured.

"I'm not okay?" Craig wondered a loud as they urged him with their hands to sit on a gurney.

"Come on, it's okay," Joey soothed.

Craig glanced around and felt his head grow lighter. There was nothing more surreal than the bright lights of the police and ambulance vehicles at night. Nothing was about this was natural. It wasn't supposed to be happening, it was as simple as that.

"We're just going to make sure you are okay," the ambulance attendant assured as he took a quick assessment of the teenager.

"I don't understand. What's wrong with me?" Craig pleaded to Joey.

"Shhh, it's okay."

"I'm just going to check out your vitals," the attendant assured.

"I have no idea what's happening right now," Craig muttered. He felt Joey's hand on his shoulder, rubbing it gently.

"He's showing no signs of a head injury," the ambulance technician stated to Joey and the police officer.

"I have no idea what's going on!" Craig exclaimed. "Did I hit my head and I'm imaging everything?"

Craig felt his eyes well up with tears as he realized that the officer, ambulance attendant, and Joey were basically ignoring him. He was here, but not really. At least he knew he was here enough for them to care about his body. It wasn't a dream if he had a body. He could feel their touch, it was subtle and gentle but he knew it was there.

"What's the typical patterns in the abuse?"

"Hitting with a belt. I also remember seeing huge bruises on his stomach," Joey replied, still rubbing Craig's shoulder.

"Okay, let's just raise your shirt a little bit, kiddo."

Craig flinched at the sensation of his shirt being raised. He could feel their eyes on him and he felt himself sink a little into himself from the shame. There was that feeling again. He knew it all too well from when it was first found out he was being hit and that visit with his social worker to confirm that yes, it had happened again and it wasn't safe for him to around Dad. "This is too much right now," he mumbled to Joey.

"Just relax."

"I don't understand," Craig mumbled as he felt them pulling at his shirt sleeves. They were still searching and trying to understand what happened that night. They were searching him. Craig tried to ignore that thought and the beating of his frantic heart.

Craig looked down at his arms once he felt their hesitancy. His arms looked like they had been clawed by some animal. He saw the angry red streaks on his pale skin and occasionally he saw that the skin had been broken. He had to wonder for a moment.

"I think I did that," Craig said and his words came out as more of a question. He had to explain. "I think I was scared. Please just listen to me. He didn't hurt me."

"Can I take him home? I don't want to traumatize him even more," Joey finally stated.

Craig was finally able to breathe as he saw the police officer nod. "My dad. Is he okay?"

"Let's take you home," the police officer said, avoiding the boy's question.

"Why won't you tell me what's going on?" Craig pleaded.

"We'll talk at home, okay?" The officer reassured.

Joey nodded at the officer and they both helped Craig to his feet. "I'm taking you home. My car is right over there," Joey explained to Craig with a small reassuring smile. It was hard to muster that optimism. He felt somewhat calmer the further they got from Albert Manning's home. Something was in the air and he tried not to think about it. It was just panic, he told himself.

Craig watched as his stepfather opened the passenger side door. He didn't resist letting Joey help him into the car. He wanted to help, go ahead and let him. Maybe his step dad needed to feel in control of all this too and that was one way of getting it, Craig figured. He didn't mind the attention. He never had that control. This night went horribly wrong. "I was stupid to think…" Craig mumbled.

Joey simply gave Craig's shoulder a reassuring squeeze before closing the car door. He nodded at the police officer, quickly thanked him, and confirmed his address. They were going to have to talk. Joey took a deep breath and went to get into the car. He glanced over at Craig twice; once was while starting the car and the other when he was shifting gears.

Craig wasn't aware. He was only interested in what was outside of the car. He twisted his head around to look at his childhood home as they drove away. It was like it was under a spotlight. He'd never seen it so bright before. It gave Craig some kind of hope. Like that meant there was still something, maybe life, burning inside of it. He could even see the glow as they turned the corner, Craig swore. But then it started to fade and he felt his heart sinking again. He turned around and looked at the city streets. They all looked the same. Craig pressed his hand against the passenger side window and strained to focus. He really had no idea where he was anymore.

He felt something shift. It took him a moment to realize the car door had opened. Things seemed so slow in his mind; he could feel the noises of the car was the engine died out, then the strange slow snap of the door opening, and he watched the residue of his hand print fade out of viewpoint.

"Joey?" Craig questioned as he felt someone encouraging him to stand, to walk.

"We're at home, buddy," Joey explained and tried to suppress the panic that was burping up inside of him. Who was this kid?

"Oh, we're at home," Craig verbally acknowledged and watched as the backdoor became closer and closer to him. Then it opened and he knew the woman standing there. "I need to come back to myself," Craig muttered.

* * *

"I'm not tired," Craig muttered as he laid down in bed at Joey's request. He didn't think he'd ever sleep again. There were a number of reasons but right now the most prominent one was that he had to be able to keep watch. He didn't know what he was looking out for, but he knew he had to be awake and aware at all times.

"Just try to sleep, okay?" Joey said softly, rubbing the boy's shoulders.

"Don't turn out the lights," Craig demanded and tried to sit up. His stepfather's grip was too firm and he was forced to stiffly lay back down.

"How about if I leave the hall light on and turn out the lights in here?"

"No."

"Let's just try it," Joey soothed as he turned off the ceiling light and then the lamp beside Craig's bed.

"Stay here," Craig insisted and swallowed hard. His muscles were so tense that they ached.

"I'm right here," Joey said and sat down at the foot of the bed.

Craig was silent for a few minutes. He simply alternated his gaze between the warm yellow light seeping in from the bedroom door that was a jar and his stepfather's silhouette. When he kept his eyes on Joey long enough, his facial features would come into focus. Joey seemed especially watchful.

"Stay here all night so he doesn't come back," Craig demanded and didn't care how crazy he sounded at the moment. Joey didn't get it, he wasn't there, Craig's frantic brain reminded him.

"He's not here, buddy," Joey said and ignored the pounding of his heart. He had never seen Craig like this.

"No, you don't understand. Now he's got even more power. Because he's not here anymore. So then he's everywhere."

"No, Craig, he's not here," Joey reassured with a nervous smile. He didn't know the right thing to say or do. What would give Craig comfort? Should he distract him with happy memories? He wondered if Craig could remember anything from the past, his stepson seemed stuck in the moment or else all over the place. Joey racked his brain for something to say, any kind of story. "Remember the day Angela was born? I remember the first time you laid eyes on her…"

* * *

"He's still asleep," Joey said as he flicked off the hall light and quietly closed the bedroom door.

Caitlin set her book on the nightstand table and watched as Joey tossed his bathrobe onto the bed and crawl in. "That's good," she finally managed to say.

"He's really out of it," Joey reflected

Caitlin heard the exhaustion in his voice. She felt it too. She'd been there with him through all of Craig's mood swings. She had watched Craig enter the house, blink and look around and look clueless as if this was the first time he had been in the house. She was the one to make him the tea, place it in his shaky hands, and drink none of it as they waited for the police officer to arrive and confirm what they all feared.

"It's like he understands what has happened, but just can't process it," Joey said and stared up at the ceiling. He recalled as Craig seemed numb to the police officer's questions. He held his breath each time the officer repeated a question. He knew why this was done, to verify the exact order of events and to make sure Craig's story stayed the same each time, but he was certain Craig was bound of have some response to going over the events again and again. But his stepson never did. He just sat there clutching his cup of tea and staring down into it, almost like he was looking into some crystal ball and that was what was telling him what to say. Sometimes Craig's forehead scrunched up and his expression looked like the memory recall was a painful act, like it was some splinter of wood stuck in his mind and they were removing it ever so slowly and letting the reality of what had happened spill out. He knew they were hurting him by confirming his worst fears.

_Joey had found it hard to first meet Craig's gaze as he and the police officer entered the living room. He could tell from Craig's eyes that he knew what they had just discussed. He didn't know how Craig was going to react to the news, even though he knew a part of Craig acknowledged what had happened. He shifted his gaze from Craig to Caitlin, who sat beside him on the couch._

"_Just tell me," Craig pleaded as he stood up. "I know what happened. Just tell me."_

_The officer and Joey approached him. "Sit down and we'll talk."_

"_Just tell me."_

"_Honey, come on and sit down," Caitlin tried and was warm towards Craig despite the aggression she sensed was building in the teen. She gently touched his arm._

"_Don't touch me. Don't touch me right now," Craig muttered, pulling away from Caitlin. He started for the door. "I need to fix this. I need to go."_

"_No. Stay here," Joey said firmly._

_Craig felt hands on his shoulders now. "Don't touch me right now."_

"_Calm down," the police officer encouraged as he gripped the teenager._

_Craig could only shake his head in response and gave one satisfying jerk away from the cop. _

"_I know you are upset," Joey tried to soothe as he put his hands under the boy's elbows. He watched Craig shake his head again. _

"_You said you heard a gunshot?" the police officer asked._

"_Yeah," Craig whispered and knew he wasn't ready for this. _

"_I don't know how to prepare you for this," the officer said slowly. "Your father killed himself."_

"_I know. I know," Craig mumbled as the room began to fade away. Joey and the officer quickly grabbed the teenager before he could hit the floor and eased him onto the living room couch._

"It's going to be a rough next couple of days," Joey said as Caitlin flicked out the lamp by their bedside. The darkness didn't bring him any closer to sleep.

"He's just going to need time," Caitlin said, trying to feel stronger than she felt in this situation. She could tell Joey was scared. "I'll stay with him tomorrow morning. We can work something out. We'll get through this."

Joey nodded rapidly. "That sounds like a good plan. He needs people with him."

"And we'll get him through this."

"I've never seen him like this before."

"He's just in shock," Caitlin reassured. She knew that there was a part of Joey that worried if Craig would ever be the same after this. She could only try to alleviate his worries even though it was upsetting to watch Craig drift in and out of awareness. He seemed like a shell of himself at some times and other like a young boy. After the police officer left, they sat there on the living room couch with Craig.

"_You are okay, honey," Caitlin soothed as she watched Craig jerk and open his eyes wide._

"_What?" Craig muttered, lifting his head up off Joey's chest. He glanced around and tried to remember how he got to this moment. Caitlin was sitting close beside him on the living room couch, her hand coiled around his. He was curled up beside his stepfather. Joey had an arm firmly wrapped under Craig as he held him._

"_You fainted earlier," Caitlin reminded. _

"_What's happening?"_

"_We're just sitting here with you, kiddo," Joey explained._

"_Where's the police officer?"_

"_He left about an hour ago."_

"_What's been happening since then? Was I asleep the whole time?"_

"_We woke you up right after you fainted. Caitlin and I have been sitting here with you since then."_

"_No. I don't remember."_

"_We're just talking," Caitlin explained._

"_I don't remember," Craig repeated and they heard his voice crack with emotion. They watched as his eyes darted around the room, like he was searching for something. "What is going on? What's happening?"_

Craig wasn't all there and they tried to be okay with that, although it was alarming to have to remind him of what had just happened. They tried to embrace him and give him some kind of support and she could feel the urgency in the teenager's grasp. It was like he felt they were the last two people on Earth that he had and Caitlin knew that in a way they were.

"How are you feeling about what just happened?" Caitlin asked and looked over at Joey. Suddenly she was hit with her own doubts. It was up to them to get Craig through this…and the rest of his life.

"I'm worried about Craig," Joey said without hesitation.

She couldn't talk about the fact they were officially his parents now. Maybe they didn't need to. It was what they had to do. "No…I mean, Albert."

"Why would I have any kind of reaction to that?" Joey questioned, his tone full of disbelief and the slight hint of anger, but he wasn't sure where that was coming from. "Albert Manning and I weren't exactly best buddies."

"Understandable," Caitlin quickly agreed. "It's still pretty surreal. Came right out of left field."

"We knew he had problems. I just don't think anyone knew how bad they were," Joey said and rolled away from Caitlin. He stared at the wall and tried to keep his mind from going there and imaging ways he could have intervened; he would have done anything to prevent this if it meant saving Craig from pain.

* * *

Joey's first reaction to the crying was that it was part of a dream. Craig was in his thoughts so frequently that it only made sense that he was in the dream too. It was so soft, just background noise to the events of the night replaying in his mind.

"Joey," Caitlin whispered, shaking him. She watched his eyes fly open.

"Oh my God," Joey whispered and hastily pulled the blankets off of him and jumped out of bed.

Instinctively, he went for Craig's room. He found the bed empty and the sheets rumpled from Craig's restless sleep. Joey could have sworn the crying was closer a moment ago, where was Craig? He started for the stairs when he saw Angie's door open ever so slightly and he could see her wide chestnut eyes peeking out from the darkness. He turned and went for her bedroom.

"I'm scared," she whispered as he slowly opened the door and watch his daughter retreat into the darkness of her room some. He felt Caitlin's night gown brush up against him.

"It's okay, honey. Craig just had a nightmare. That's all it is," Caitlin soothed and went for the child. As she handed a stuffed animal to Angela she said, "I'll take care of her. Go be with Craig."

Joey gave a rapid nod and as he exited the room, he heard Angie voice her concern, "Was he dreaming about the dinosaur again? Do you remember that one who would hurt him? Is that what happened now?"

It was something in those words that gave Joey the chills. He continued moving though and found Craig standing in the middle of the living room, looking around like he was lost in his own house. Joey flashed back to a moment when he had lost Angela in a department store. He and Julia were looking at a washer and dryer set and having a low key argument about what would work better; front loading washers produced cleaner clothes and used less water, she had argued. Angie was bored by this and had wandered off. He remembered those frantic moments of trying to find her, silently berating himself all the while. They found her in the juniors clothing department, ducking in and out of clothing racks. She had a smile on her face, not feeling lost at all.

Craig was lost, here in his own house, it seemed. He could see his stepson's wet face and the terror in his eyes. Joey slowly approached his stepson and reached out to touch him.

"You're here," Craig said, stating each word between a gasp for air. "I thought you left. I thought you were like him."

"What do you mean?" Joey questioned and swallowed hard. This moment took him back to those shaky first few months when Craig moved in and would wake up anxious from nightmares.

"It was dark. Like how it was at his house tonight," Craig observed and began to move towards the kitchen. He flicked on the light switch and felt comfort in the light washing over the room. Things were still here. He was still here. Joey was still here. "I thought maybe you killed yourself."

Joey stopped dead in the doorway that separated the kitchen and the living room. His mouth opened but he couldn't find the words to respond. He watched as Craig passed him, clearly on a mission, and turned on the remainder of the lights in the living room.

"I'm right here, Craig. I'm not going anywhere," he finally reassured.

Craig nodded for a few moments and surveyed the room. He felt better now with the lights on. That strange surreal danger was gone now. He had felt that at his father's when he was trying to talk him down in their dark house. He didn't like feeling that here at Joey's. Joey's was supposed to be safe.

Craig wiped his face. It was wet. He had been crying. But it wasn't the normal kind of crying where you felt it build up and they exited in sobs. Now it was just happening. The tears were just flowing out of him involuntary. He couldn't control what he was saying either, for the most part. What was happening to him? He got himself to stop nodding. "This feels better now."

"Okay," Joey said and moved towards his stepson. "If this is what makes you feel better, that's fine. If this is what makes you feel safe, that's fine. Can you try to get some sleep now?"

"Maybe…if the lights are on," Craig replied as he stepfather led him up the stairs. He could feel his arm around him. "If the lights are on we can still keep watch."

"Sure, buddy, whatever helps," Joey soothed and flicked on the hall light. He paused by Angela's room to close the door all the way. Angie only needed her night light and he was certain she would find this bothersome.

"Wait, what are you doing?" Craig demanded. Joey heard the panic in his stepson's voice again.

"Angie doesn't like the light shining into her room. She's got her night light, remember?"

"No. I don't like that. I don't know if…"

"Craig, she's going to be fine. I'll check on her throughout the night, alright?" Joey said and continued to steer Craig into his bedroom. "Come on and try to get some rest. Things are going to seem better in the morning."

"I don't think that's true," Craig replied as he stiffly laid down in bed. He could see the worry in Joey's eyes and knew that he knew this as well. "I don't know if anything is ever going to be the same again."

"Let's just take it one day at a time. One hour at a time. And right now you need to try to get some rest."

"Did it really happen? Did he really do it?" Craig questioned. Suddenly everything seemed unclear. Maybe he did just go crazy and dream it all up. It was something he would do. He started to sit up. "I need to go make sure. I just called him. I got his voicemail. It sounded like he was there. I need to go call again. Maybe he'll pick up. I need to go make sure."

Joey gripped Craig's shoulders and gently began to ease him back down into bed. "You don't have to make sure of anything. You don't need to worry about anything. I'll take care of things. Just try to sleep."

Joey could feel Craig still resisting him. He found himself talking, mainly just to talk. It seemed like hearing his voice relaxed his stepson some. He rubbed Craig's shoulders and arms, occasionally tightening his grip when Craig insisted he had to make sure and tried to get up. He continued to reassure him with stories of his childhood and the fact that he was here and he wasn't going anywhere. "I'm here and I'm not going anywhere," Joey continued to interject in-between stories of Craig's childhood; family vacations to water parks, baseball fields, and GI Joes.

"I feel like I've been in a war," Craig mumbled as he felt his heart disappear from his chest and the blackness of sleep slip over him.

* * *

Time wasn't making any sense. Events seemed to fade into one another. Craig knew that he wasn't sleeping and maybe that had something to do with it. Sleeping helped to create blocks of time and that wasn't happening. Things felt like they kept happening over and over. He wasn't sure how many times he'd have that conversation with Joey and Caitlin about why it had to happen. Visitors came and went. His closest friends flowed into the room and out. Most of the time he was aware he was speaking to them, although it seemed hard to control what he would say. He knew this situation was scaring them, that he was scaring them. He barely felt the awkwardness of Mr. Simpson visiting. It was Joey's friend, he'd seen him in his living room before.

He just gave his media immersion teacher a nod, sank down onto the living room couch, and stared blankly at the TV screen.

"Do you want some tea? I can get you some tea," Caitlin offered and started to cross over to the kitchen. She paused and waited for Craig to respond.

"Sure," Craig said to humor her. This was what Caitlin had been doing for the past few days. She brought him tea or chicken noodle soup like he was home from school because he was sick with the flu.

"Do you mind if we talk?" Simpson cautiously asked and shifted his glance from Craig to Joey.

Craig looked over, curious. "Uh, okay."

"I'm going to go help Caitlin out with the tea," Joey declared.

Craig felt the couch cushions shift as Simpson sat down next to him. Craig couldn't help but dart his eyes around nervously. What was this about?

"I'm not going to pretend that I have any idea what it's like for you. But I do want you to know that you aren't alone in this. We're here to support you. And you aren't the first person to lose someone to suicide. There's others out there that can relate to you," Simpson paused for a few moments and then continued. "When I was a senior in high school, a kid committed suicide in the boys washroom. I was the one to find him."

Craig looked over at his teacher in shock. He wasn't expecting that. He was expecting the same words of comfort everyone else had offered. "How did he do it?"

"He shot himself."

"Like my…" was the only thing Craig could say. He glanced over and saw Simpson nod. Of course he knew. "Were you okay afterwards?"

"It was a very difficult thing to deal with. I had nightmares and a lot of questions that no one had the answers to."

"Was he your friend?"

"No, but I knew him. I had seen him in the school halls before."

"So you probably didn't wonder about how you could have done things differently then huh? I did everything wrong that night. What I should have done is called the cops the moment he threatened it. I didn't know," Craig said and rubbed at his sore eyes.

"You did everything the only way you knew how. You can't blame yourself for this, you just can't. It will consume you," Simpson said and reached for his bag. He pulled out several books and set them on the coffee table. He watched as Craig curiously looked them over.

"Self help books for suicide survivors. That sounds like fun. Going to pick up some horror movies too? Cause I don't have enough blood in my nightmares yet. I need some more," Craig couldn't help but snap. The anger was back again.

"No, it's okay. You don't have to read them. You might not be ready. I thought I'd offer and let you know that I'm here for support. A couple of them are mine, so you can hang onto them for as long as you want. The other is Ms. Sauvé's. I'm sure she wouldn't mind if you kept them for awhile."

Craig sighed and closed his eyes. "Everyone is treating this like…it's something that there's a manual for. That all my reactions are normal. They aren't normal to me. I don't feel like myself anymore," Craig said and opened his eyes.

Simpson smiled warmly, "I think we all would like a copy of that manual to life. But there isn't one. So you've got our support while you get through this."

"They've got me on more meds," Craig said. "I swear, it's Joey's first reaction to everything. Get Craig talking to someone else because he doesn't know what to do. Like it helps at all. Well, some of the pills do but I knew that already. But they don't even really do anything right now."

He watched as Simpson nodded, but looked slightly confused. His friends had simply nodded when he told them he didn't have to dig into his private stash anymore because they were actually prescribing Xanax for him. Ashley was the only one who had the guts to say that it was good that he was getting a physician's advice. But she didn't respond when Craig said that he knew what was best all along. They kept doing that, just letting him talk but not really having a conversation with him. Craig was beginning to wonder if he was human. At least he was human enough to show restraint and kept from going into detail with his teacher about those little blue pills.

"It sounds like you have been experiencing some anxiety, they just want to help make this situation easier on you," Simpson chose to say. Buddy Jeremiah had already spilled this information to him the other night on the phone. Craig was the only thing they talked about and he had a feeling the only thing Joey thought about lately.

Craig swallowed hard and glanced out the window at the darkening sky. "I hate nighttime now," he griped. He was feeling that urge again. He knew the upstairs was unoccupied and dark and that made him uneasy. He got to his feet and the moment he started moving, Caitlin and Joey were in the room.

"What's up, buddy?" Joey asked.

Craig paused and fidgeted some. He couldn't explain it. He was doing it for them. He had to keep them safe. "Um, I just…I'll be right back," He said and went for the stairs.

Simpson shot a look of confusion over at his friends.

"Craig wants all the lights on in the house when it starts to get dark. And I mean every light. He wants us to keep our bedroom doors open and the lights on," Joey explained. They sent Angie to grandma's after the first night post suicide out of fear that Craig's moods would frighten her.

"It happened at night right? The suicide?"

"Yeah. Craig said that when he got to the house, all the lights were off. I know that's why he's doing this, wanting all the lights on at, say, 1 am. There's not a lot of sleeping happening at Casa Jeremiah," Joey said and noticed that his tone was irritable. He cleared his throat in an attempt to lighten his tone. "I'm sorry, I probably sound like I'm complaining. And maybe I am. I'm just...tired. And I feel helpless. I don't know what to do for him."

"I understand. This is probably the hardest time he'll have."

Joey nodded and stared blankly off for a moment. "One night he came into my bedroom and was crying about how I was going to kill myself. I don't know what to do for him."

"It's going to change him. But he will be okay," Simpson said and stopped once he heard Craig on the stairs. He just let his look be response enough. He had already tried to reassure Joey that Craig would be fine. Craig was grieving and stressed out; that was why he seemed all over the place with his fragmented thoughts. Joey had only once quietly revealed that he feared Craig would try suicide again (but kept the details to himself; he could imagine Craig deciding he didn't want to be in a world without his parents) and Simpson had quickly replied that Craig didn't have some suicide gene.

"He will be okay," Simpson repeated and watched as the teen descended the steps.

Craig suspiciously eyed the adults in his living room. They all hadn't moved from the spot he'd left them in. He could just imagine the hushed discussion that had just taken place. They all thought he was nuts, he could tell. He watched as they all shifted their eyes away. Caitlin headed to the kitchen, declaring she'd get the tea, and his stepfather and his friend sat down on the couch. Craig started for an armchair and then paused.

"Can I ask you something?" Craig said and looked at his teacher.

"Ask away."

"That guy...the guy you found who shot himself...what did he look like?"

Caitlin was startled by the question and nearly dropped the tray as she was setting it on the coffee table. Craig barely glanced at it as the coffee cups rattled, his gaze was fixed on Simpson.

"I don't think you should be thinking about that," Simpson said after hesitation.

"No," Craig said and gazed off for a moment. Craig had to ask. None of this seemed real. He still wasn't convinced his dad was really gone. "It's not fair. I want to know and I can't know."

"That's really not an important detail."

"I'll just go look it up on the internet if you won't tell me."

"What in the world do you think you are going to find on the internet?" Joey blurted out, shocked by the possibilities of what was rolling around in Craig's head at the moment.

"What can't you find on the internet?" Craig muttered, irritated.

"It's a violent way to die, Craig," Simpson interjected.

"I'm tired of wondering! Everything after that one moment is totally left up to my imagination and it's driving me crazy!"

"How about if you told us what you saw? Tell us about that night."

Craig felt like his mind had suddenly come to a halt. The conversation felt real now. He pressed his fingers to his lips for a moment and he could feel the adults watching his movements. They knew that was very telling body language, that it was his way of trying to get himself to stop. He lowered them and apologized, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm talking about this."

"It's alright, Craig," Simpson reassured. "You are just grieving."

Craig looked away from his teacher for a moment and wondered if it was alright to ask this. Then he said it, "Will you come to the visitation tomorrow night?"

He watched his teacher smile warmly. "I'm there. We're all here for you. You aren't going through this alone."

* * *

**Author's Note: **The next chapter should up shortly - in a few days or a week. I have a large part of it written already. It was going to be a part of this chapter but it would have been way too long. Anyway, thanks for reading and reviewing. Hope my readers are enjoying this twist!


	20. Bombsite

**20. Bombsite**

* * *

He didn't want to be there. If his stomach hadn't been empty, he was sure he would have thrown up once they entered the funeral home. Craig was sure he even shrunk back some, bumping his shoulder into Joey, as they made their way through the lobby and towards the viewing room. People seemed to part apart, making way for them and studying him as he walked past. He couldn't handle their eyes on him. His gaze moved back and forth over the gathering of his family…his father's family. He wasn't sure what to think of them. It had been so long since he had seen them; they felt estranged from him in a way, not completely his family anymore. He felt guilty for thinking that but his feelings didn't stop him from requesting that Mr. Simpson and Ashley accompany him, Joey, and Caitlin. They were the ones that were giving him support like he'd expect from a family. He needed them there. He felt like they were the only ones keeping him grounded in this situation. Sometimes he didn't trust himself at all, like there was nothing keeping him from throwing him out of a window just to silence the noise in his head.

"Take all the time you need," someone in a suit reassured him as he pushed opened the heavy oak door. Craig closed his eyes for a moment and forced himself to take a deep breath. He could do this. A glance at his teacher seemed to convey the message that he wanted him present and he felt him moving beside him. He felt himself floating into the room. He avoided looking straight ahead. He looked over the empty chairs, the carpet, and then finally allowed his gaze to settle on the closed casket.

Craig was doing a strange rationalization process when it came to this. He told himself he had to develop some strategy. He could think of it as a game. Each event this evening was a game space and he was just trying to get to the end. He could make up rules to follow, steps he'd take to get to closer to the end of the night. He was a robot. None of this was happening. Damn them for trying to make this happen. Joey said it would help give him closure. What did his stepfather know? Craig wanted to get as far away from the reality of this as possible.

"I can't close my eyes, ever. Whenever I do, I see the most disturbing things. It's like a horror movie is playing in my head all the time," Craig said softly to Mr. Simpson. He wasn't making any eye contact with his teacher though. His eyes were glued on the closed funeral casket a few feet from him. "And I don't even see my dad all the time. Sometimes it's just these distorted ghostly faces with screaming mouths and wild eyes. Sometimes I see blood. Or people who have amputations."

"That's normal, Craig. It's normal to be seeing those types of things. It's your brain's way of telling you that you are having a hard time dealing. It's a way for you to try to work through your feelings," was the best explanation Simpson could give to that.

"I keep reliving it over and over. All the things I could have done different. And I see the room where he did it over and over. I didn't actually see him after he did it but I can imagine and I see him covered in blood and just a mess."

"Totally normal, Craig," Simpson reassured.

"I need to see him again," Craig said. He couldn't believe he was gone.

"I know you want that more than anything right now," Simpson said and gave a glance to Joey, who was lurking by the door.

"I wish it was an open casket service. I want to know what he looks like. Does that sound really morbid?"

"If it's a closed casket, there's probably a reason for that."

"Maybe if I could just see, those dreams would go away," Craig said as he got to his feet. He was suddenly unhappy about how unreal this felt. There was no way to make this able to deal with.

"No. It would make it worse," Simpson said and motioned for Joey to approach them.

Craig took a few steps closer to the casket. Simpson grabbed onto the teenager. He firmly held the boy's upper arm with one hand and massaged his back with the other hand. He didn't quite trust Craig right now. How far would he take this?

"It's just not even real now. I need to make this real," Craig murmured.

"Craig, this is real," Joey said as he approached his stepson from behind and took his place close beside him. He took a firm but sympathetic grasp of Craig's arm with one hand and used the other to rub small circles on his back. Just keep him calm and stay calm, Joey silently told himself.

"Let go of me," Craig said and shot a confused look at his step dad. They were treating him like he was crazy again. His mind briefly flashed back to the night of his suicide attempt, that fateful night when he took a handful of pills and went to his stepfathers. He thought it would bring some resolution to his situation. And it did, in an odd way. Craig's eyes moved over the wood grain of the casket. This was very ironic. "There's something about this that is like a dream. It's not real."

"If you want to be close to the casket, that's fine. But we are going to stay right next to you. And you can't open it up," Joey said.

"What good would that do?" Craig sighed.

"Do you want to go look at some pictures of your dad?" Simpson asked, trying to distract the teen. Craig was making him nervous. He was a bit too distanced from reality at this moment. "Pictures would help you remember how your dad looked."

"Maybe this isn't even real. Maybe it's just all in my head and I went crazy and I'm imagining it all," Craig said softly, in a dreamlike state.

Joey moved so he was standing in front of Craig. He had to shift his attention away and get him to think about something else. He took the boy's hand and squeezed it hard. "Can you feel that?"

Craig nodded and made eye contact with his step dad.

Joey squeezed Craig's hand again, "You can feel it, so you are here and this is real."

"I just don't feel right."

"Come with me and take some anxiety meds okay?" Joey encouraged. He ignored Simpson's disapproving look. He knew that Simpson thought the boy should be allowed to grieve. Joey agreed entirely, but he really didn't want Craig to have a freak-out in public, especially if that freak-out including opening the casket against everyone's wishes.

Craig nodded rapidly, eager for anything that would help get him through this. So he followed Joey and eagerly gulped down the pill with some water. He told himself to just stay focused on his stepfather, even if he couldn't quite make sense of his voice. But he could see him and after a few moments, he let him lead him back out into the lobby of the funeral home. He was sure he looked a slightly confused as he managed to break his gaze from his stepfather and actually acknowledge that Caitlin and his media immersion teacher stood next to him.

"How are you doing?" Caitlin asked and hoped that she didn't sound nervous. She watched Craig give her sort of a half nod.

"I think I'm okay," he said and noticed how his voice didn't sound like his at all. "Ashley's going to be here, right?"

"Yes, she'll be here," Joey reassured.

"That's okay that she's coming right?"

"Absolutely."

"I wonder why they put people through this twice," Craig muttered.

"This is a private time for the family. More informal," Joey answered.

"Yeah, I know. I just…I'd be fine with one service," Craig replied and widened his eyes at his grandparents approaching. He noticed how they seemed older and when his grandmother embraced him he noticed that she still wore the same perfume.

Then came the apology and the talk you'd only hear at a funeral home. He knew that kind of talk; he had done this once before. There was a routine to death. They told you it happened right away and you felt like you would literally fall to pieces. While the shock and occasional bouts of tears carried on the food would arrive, interrupted by phone calls from people who had just heard the news. There was a lot of "I'm sorry for you loss" until you didn't think you could stand it anymore and finally a few days later the wake would happen. When you think they couldn't take anymore out of you, your loved one would finally be put into the ground the following morning. He hadn't figured out all of the details, like when it would happen but he knew that people would always leave you earlier than you expected and that was the cold, hard truth.

Craig blinked a few times and tried to focus on what his grandparents were saying. He couldn't hear their voices but he heard their thoughts. He was a terrible son. He didn't stay with his father and he didn't love him like a son should so this had to happen. That was what they were thinking. They thought that he was a terrible son.

"I'm sorry that I didn't see you more often. Boarding school. Totally bogged down with homework, even over the holidays," Craig said. He fidgeted as he watched an exchange of glances between his grandparents and Joey. They all must have known that he was lying.

He felt himself zoning out. He could see lips moving and strained to make sense of the words. He felt his grandmother embrace him once more and then she was gone. Craig managed to get himself to look at Joey.

"I don't know why I just said that. I don't know how much they know," he tried to explain.

Joey could only smile reassuringly and rub Craig's back as a response. Somewhere in the back of his brain, a voice quietly reminded him that this was still Craig. He had become unrecognizable in a way. He alternated between seeming very young and a totally different person. He told himself this was the kid who jammed in the garage with his buddies until the neighbors complained. He was the one who would spend 5 hours in the darkroom at school and argue with him about how it was more important than his science homework. He was the one who was fiercely protective over his little sister and girlfriend and humored him by laughing at his lame jokes. And he would laugh again, Joey reassured himself. This was Craig.

"I felt like I had to explain something to them. I still feel like I have to explain it to them," Craig mumbled, still arguing in his head about how to explain his relationship with his father to his family.

"Don't worry about it. They understand," Joey finally said. "Don't worry about a thing. I'll take care of everything."

Craig hadn't even thought about the details. He nervously swallowed but took some comfort in Joey's gaze. He would take care of him, he said. He wouldn't leave him. Craig felt the medication slowly start to slip into his veins. His head was going a little numb and his racing thoughts finally starting to slow down. Soon they'd be silenced. He didn't have to worry about people leaving. As if on cue, he saw her enter. Ashley moved delicately and he saw her gaze dart around the room as if she felt out of place all the while scanning the crowd for him. He weaved past relatives and eagerly embraced her.

"You came. I was so afraid you weren't going to come," he said softly.

"I thought I'd give you some time with your family before the service," Ashley explained.

"Things seem really strange with them," Craig replied as Ashley pulled away from him. She brushed a lock of hair off of his forehead and gazed into his eyes for a moment.

"I'm sorry. They are probably caught up in their own grief," Ashley chose to say. She was being so careful with her words lately. She felt completely out of her element. And out of her league. If she could help or protect him she would, but she had a feeling nothing she could do would help.

"I guess. I think it's me."

"Want to go talk to them? Introduce me to your grandparents?" Ashley asked. "I came dressed to please family members tonight."

Craig looked her over, realizing that that he hadn't even noticed her clothes. He wasn't seeing the details lately. "You look nice," Craig managed to say, taking in how her clothes weren't vintage or had a punky edge. She looked more grown up in her grey tweed pants and black cardigan. She was a little less Ashley tonight, although he knew stuff like that didn't matter. It must just be the night. He didn't feel like himself either but he doubted it was the black dress pants and button down shirt.

"Craig? Want to stand with Joey?" Ashley questioned after she didn't get a reply. She stared into his eyes, looking for some answer but she just got a vacant stare in return. Every once in awhile she would see his eyes flicker and her heart ached. She could only imagine all of his emotions, all trying to find their way out.

"I can't make up my mind about anything," he whispered to her and she took his hand and led him over to his stepfather.

Craig zoned out while the others made small talk. He would come around to talk with a relative and receive a hug, then drifted out again once he felt it was safe to not be 'normal'. This was going to exhaust him. He was mixed with relief and dread once the time came to go back into the viewing room. Naturally, Joey sat next to him. He barely noticed that Ashley was cautious to take the seat on the other side of him, but Caitlin encouraged her.

Craig immediately took Ashley's hand once the service started. He stared around the room and focused on various details in the room; the shadows that formed from the soft lighting, the green specks in the light grey carpet, or the patterns in the wooden panels on the wall. He had to do something. The whole situation made him feel raw. Joey told him that this was supposed to be a private time for the family to grieve; it was more personal. He was right about it feeling personal, Craig silently agreed. The whole thing felt invasive. Like he was in some surgery and they were trying to pull the emotions out of him. But once they went in and yanked a reaction out of him, he wasn't sure if he could stop the tears or the screaming. It was like an operation gone wrong and the blood might never cease to stop flowing. His wounds were that deep, didn't they understand? So he had to check himself out of this situation.

He snapped to attention when the minister asked the family members to share memories of Albert Manning. He hoped it wasn't like school and he'd be called on. Even if he wasn't called on, he had a feeling he was expected to say something. He squeezed Ashley's hand so tight he thought she might cry out and barely heard his relatives re-telling their favorite memories of his father. When they bowed down their heads to pray, he couldn't help but pray for it to be over.

* * *

"At least that's over with," Craig declared as he undid a few buttons on his shirt and sank down onto the living room couch. He felt the couch shift and could smell the slight scent of jasmine perfume. He didn't even have to tear his eyes from the blank TV screen to know it was Ashley.

"Did it help any?" Ashley asked after a moment of silence.

"Made it more real, that's for sure," Craig said and didn't move a muscle. He didn't even blink.

"Each day will get easier," Joey offered as he sat down on the other side of Craig. "You just need to give it time."

Craig sighed. He had been doing a lot of sighing lately. He felt so heavy on the inside. He was surprised he had the strength to get up and go to the visitation service with the rest of his father's family.

"You know it's weird…I don't really know my own family. I mean my dad's side. I feel like we're all being fake. I thought they would want to talk to me about what happened or ask about the past few years but everyone just kind of avoided the subject," Craig observed.

"Craig, you can still see them whenever you want," Joey had to reassured and tried to ignore some strange shift in Craig's face and that flicker of anger in his eyes. "They are your family and they care about you."

Craig tried to keep his mind from going there, to that place where he questioned why this had to happen. Maybe it was Joey's fault, like his dad had always said. It should have just been him and his father. Then this wouldn't have happened. He felt like his brain never stopped that search for answers. It was a journey and just when he thought he would fall from exhaustion, something kept pushing him on.

"I think I did everything wrong," Craig sighed.

"No. No, you didn't," Caitlin said firmly and joined them. She handed Craig a bottle of water but it remained unopened in his hands.

"What I should have done is called the cops the moment he threatened it."

They were silent for a moment. Then Ashley stated softly, "Maybe you didn't know he was serious."

"I thought he was doing it to get my attention. To get me to come over. I remember thinking about calling the police. I remember thinking about calling you, Joey. I really didn't think he would do it."

"I know," Joey agreed. "It's not your fault."

"Why do that to me? Why make me come over and hear it happen?"

"I think he just wanted to say goodbye and let you know that he's sorry for what he did to you. It was his way of tying loose ends," Joey offered. He knew the guessing game of why Albert committed suicide would continue to haunt Craig and none of his suggestions would bring him any closer to coming to terms with his passing, at least not now.

"That makes sense, Craig," Ashley chimed in, eager to give out a few helpful words. She had no idea how to ease his pain.

"I can't believe that he thought that this was for the best," Craig mumbled and rubbed his head. He was having a hard time controlling what he said. He knew he couldn't control what he was thinking; there was no way of keeping that in order. But for the most part he could control what he said. But not now, it all just fell out.

"I thought he just wanted to get my attention. Get me to come over."

"I understand," Ashley whispered back.

"He's such an asshole," Craig stated bitterly. The anger was returning to him now and in a way he found it refreshing. At least with the anger he felt alive. "Well, he showed me didn't he?"

"Excuse me?" Joey questioned. It was hard to follow this kid's thought processes sometimes.

"We were always doing shit to hurt each other. He used to beat the crap out of me so I had to come here and I know he resented me for it. He ignored me for a few months, I didn't spend Christmas with him, and everything else. I can't even keep track of it. We just had that fight. And now this. He won."

"Your dad had a lot of issues, a lot which had nothing to do with you. Or me even," Joey tried to explain. "None of this is your fault. I don't think he blames you at all."

Craig shook his head and rocked back and forth several times as he tried to process this. They didn't understand. They didn't have to live with his dad and they weren't there that night. All the memories were crashing into him now, angry waves that would knock him over if he was standing up right.

"I always used to wish he'd punch me in the mouth and break my jaw so my mouth would have to be wired shut. Then I wouldn't say the things I do," Craig said with a bitter laugh and brushed away a tear. He caught sight of the disturbed looks. "Or I'd do that to him and he'd stop." They were still giving him that look. "It's just thoughts! I don't mean any of them."

Craig glanced around the room at their faces. Ashley refused to look up from the floor and he opened his mouth, but couldn't find the words to explain. He glanced over at Joey, who return his gaze with sympathetic eyes and rubbed his knee reassuringly. Craig started to kick off his dress shoes, his sharp movements full of frustration. Then he sighed heavily for what felt like the hundredth time since they got home.

"You look exhausted," Caitlin couldn't help but say. The bags under his eyes got darker each day. It was obvious how much baggage this kid was carrying around.

"Maybe you should head up to bed," Joey encouraged. "You need to rest up for tomorrow."

"Oh you have no idea how much I'm looking forward to that," Craig gripped about the funeral. He felt Ashley's hand on the back of his neck, softly caressing him. He was still tense. "I hate that I have to do all this. It doesn't help!"

"It will in the long run," Joey tried to explain. "But no pressure. We don't want to force you to do something you can't handle. But I really think it would help you to attend."

"I know I have to go. What kind of son would I be if I didn't go? They all think I'm a terrible son, I know it. I know it too," Craig said and squeezed the couch cushion. "I can't get my mind around this. Nothing makes any sense."

"Hey, let's go upstairs and listen to some music. It might help mellow you out," Ashley encouraged.

* * *

Craig re-entered his bedroom, feeling a little awkward in his flannel pajama bottoms and old concert t-shirt. He felt anxiety about that fade as he realized he had more important things to worry about. They were encouraging him to sleep and that meant nightmares. He went for the top drawer and pulled a pill bottle out of one of his socks. He glanced at his bedroom door that was left ajar before twisting off the bottle top. Joey was strict about following the orders on the medication bottles.

"One doesn't knock me out. I need another," Craig explained as he popped a pill in his mouth and swallowed it easily without water. As he put the bottle away he swore he felt the calmness start to wash over him, but it must just be the relief of knowing that he had a little chemical help.

Ashley pushed play on the CD player, clicked through several of the tracks, and lowered the volume. "No more Neutral Milk Hotel for you. I know how you get. You'll be up writing songs all night," Ashley said and smiled a little, remembering their heartfelt discussions about music and the energy that would fill the room when they were working on a song together.

"Mazzy Star is my chill out music," Ashley explained and watched Craig lay down. For the first time that night she actually felt like she was helping and this pleased her. She laid down beside him, on top of the blankets and still in her street clothes. She wanted to ask her mother if she could spend the night but she already knew the answer to that. It didn't matter how much she explained that he needed her there with him. But at least she could be here for another half hour. She could get him to sleep, she told herself as she leaned over to flip off the bedside lamp.

"No," the word just slipped out of Craig's mouth and he started to sit up. He watched Ashley turn to look at him and he realized how stupid his new fear was. So he laid back down, trying not to think about dead people, ghosts, and blood.

"Hey, are you okay?" Ashley asked as the room grew darker. She could still see his tense facial expression. The door was ajar and the light from the hall spilled into a sharp triangle on the floor and prevented the whole room from being washed over in darkness.

"Yeah, it's fine," he managed to say. He rubbed his sore eyes.

"Should I turn out the hall light? Can you sleep with the light on?"

"Can you leave it on?" Craig asked, barely feeling any shame. He had pretty much accepted that this was his reality and with that, the shame was starting to wash away. He had crazy reasoning but, hey, it was working for him.

"I can leave it on," Ashley soothed. She rolled over on her side so she could watch Craig. He was laying on his back, eyes staring up at the ceiling, and hands folded up and resting on his stomach.

"The sleeping pills haven't been working too well lately," Craig said softly. "Sometimes they put me to sleep but I can't sleep all night."

"Maybe you can sleep with me here," Ashley suggested. She reached over and pried apart his clasped hands. She took his hand and curled her fingers around his. "Just want to be right by your side. Right by your side," she sang along softly to "Bells Ring" and let the music take her away. The melody was swelling and the guitar taking them closer to the end of the song.

"Do you pray?" Craig asked as the songs transitioned. Religion had never really come up in their discussions. If it did, it was more political and not personal.

"Uh, sometimes I guess. Not too often. I'm not…I don't follow any specific religion."

"Yeah, I don't pray either. Until all this happened. It's kind of selfish why I do it though. I just want the pain to go away."

"That's not selfish," Ashley said and Craig saw the emotion in her eyes. He wondered if this was too much for her to handle; Craig knew that she was the type to take in everyone's emotions, try to relate to them and then heal them.

The next question to break the silence was Craig inquiring "Do you believe in ghosts?"

"I don't know. I've never seen one. I keep an open mind about it though. Do you?" Ashley replied.

"I think he's haunting me. I mean…I haven't seen anything. But he would haunt me, I bet."

"No. He doesn't want to hurt you anymore. I don't think he ever really wanted to hurt you. I mean…I know it happened but I don't think it was planned. But he's gone and he's at peace now. And I know that sounds stupid and it's all you've been hearing. But he's not here."

"I hope not," Craig sighed.

"Let's talk about something to give you sweet dreams."

"What would that be?"

"Me of course," Ashley said with a smile. "Let's talk about the year-end dance. I know it's far away but you know there will be one."

Craig looked over at her for the first time since she had turned off the lights and laid down. "So you are going with me?"

"Nah, I was thinking about asking…Sully."

"Can we get a hotel room?" Craig whispered, dismissing her joke.

"You have to have a credit card," Ashley argued with a playful smile.

"So I'll use Joey's."

"Sounds like plan," she agreed and noticed that his voice was slurred with sleepiness some. "The Westin or The Hilton?"

"Westin. We'll get the most expensive suite there. There will be champagne and room service. I've always thought that would be great to not have to leave the bed for a day. There's no reason why we would have to leave that room. The world would be gone," Craig said and felt himself smile for the first time in days. These thoughts were the first sanctuary he had. "It be our world in that room."

"Well, what I want to know is what kind of transportation we'll have. I'm not arriving to prom in my mom's station wagon. You know how important appearance is to me," Ashley joked and for a moment they felt themselves again. It was strange what this situation had done to them.

"We'll take Joey's car," Craig immediately said. "I can't wait until I have my license and can take that baby out."

Ashley giggled. "Somehow I'm not sure that will happen."

"What are you going to wear?"

"Something vintage. We'll have to do lots of shopping. You'll have that disheveled look to you, rock star. And I want something...20's inspired maybe. That would be cool."

"What if you can't find the perfect vintage dress and you have to go to the mall? What would you wear then?"

Ashley noticed his eyes were closed now. "A long black dress."

"Oh, black. Of course. Burgundy maybe?"

"Maybe."

"Something low-cut?"

"That works. You can come with and give your expert opinion. It might be fun to be glamorous for one night. Black classy dress. Maybe something with a shimmer to it," Ashley paused and looked over at Craig. His breathing was slower now. He still clutched her hand and she could feel his stomach rise and fall with each breath. "You'll be okay," Ashley reassured as she untangled her hand from his and quietly exited the room.

* * *

Craig didn't notice Joey at first. He was too busy trying to prepare himself for this. As his foot thumped on the floor nervously, he went over in his mind the exact order of events that would happen today. Sometimes he went over them in detail, reminding himself of the order of the funeral service and when he was supposed to sit or stand. Nothing was going to prepare him for this.

"How are you doing, buddy?" Joey greeted warmly and sat down on the bed beside his stepson. He wasn't surprised to find Craig awake, but was shocked that it had been a quiet night.

"I'm trying to figure out how I'm going to do this," Craig replied, his gaze shifting around the room but he wasn't seeing anything. He hadn't been seeing anything for hours, even though sometimes he moved from his bed to the window to look out.

"You don't have to do this. If you can't handle it…"

"No, I have to. Can you imagine what people would say?"

"They'd say you have been through a lot and aren't ready."

"I'm never going to be ready."

Joey rubbed Craig's knee in an attempt to get his foot to stop bopping around. "I think this will help."

Craig nodded slowly. "Maybe."

"You want to take a shower and then come down for some food before we take off?"

He just kept nodding as he got to his feet and headed for the bathroom. At least the bathroom would give him some privacy. He knew he wasn't going to be getting much of that today, he realized as he turned on the shower. Today was the day when people arrived at his home to support him or whatever it was that they were there for.

Craig stood in front of the bathroom mirror and watched it fog. He barely recognized himself. He was sure that everyone else felt the same way. They knew that he was a bomb site. He swore that if he concentrated hard enough at his reflection, he would start to disappear. And that was how it was too, there were parts of him that just weren't there anymore.

"I'm not there anymore," he whispered to his reflection and put his hand on the glass.

* * *

"I thought you said he was awake," Caitlin remarked a half hour later. She started on the breakfast dishes, but left a box of cold cereal, bowl, and spoon out for Craig. He still hadn't come down.

"He was. He went right into the bathroom," Joey said and glanced down at his watch. "I better go check on him."

"Craig," Joey called as he climbed the stairs. "You almost ready, buddy?"

Joey paused at the bathroom door and listened to the sound of the shower still running. He knocked on the door and light heartedly called out, "You've been in there for a half hour. I can go grab Caitlin and she can tell you about water preservation, whether you want to hear it or not."

Joey knocked again, a bit louder. "Craig, you doing okay?" Joey felt the panic shoot through his body and he quickly entered the bathroom. He half expected Craig to be unconscious on the bathroom tiles, having used the shower as a way to buy him more time to take a fatal overdose. Caitlin and Snake frequently picked up on his worry and reassured him that his stepson wasn't suicidal. Joey tried to tell himself this as well but deep down he knew Craig was impulsive and he was hurting and that had proved in the past to be a deadly combo.

"Craig, we have to get going soon," Joey reminded from the doorway. He still didn't get a response. "Okay, you really have me worried."

Joey decided to take the chance upsetting the boy and entered the bathroom. He could see Craig through the semi-transparent shower curtain. He was crouched down in the tub, like he was cowering from the a heavy rain shower and not the steady stream of water from a shower head. "Craig."

Still no response or movement. Joey pulled the curtain back enough to reach in to turn off the water and noticed that the water had run ice cold. Craig didn't even lift his head up when the water was shut off. Joey pulled the curtain back and draped a towel around the boy.

"You must be freezing," Joey said and rubbed Craig's shoulders. Craig finally looked up but didn't say a word. Joey noticed that his teeth were chattering and he grabbed another towel from the rack and gently rubbed the boys wet hair.

"You zoned out huh?" Joey asked, looking over the boy curled up in the tub. He was greeted by more silence. All he could hear was the blood pounding into his ears as his heart rate sped up. Was this kid okay? "Can you say something to me, please?"

"I'm okay," Craig mumbled and started to stand with Joey's help. His body was returning to him and it felt like his brain was thawing out. He pulled the towel tighter around him, suddenly feeling embarrassed. "Can you leave me alone?"

"Okay," Joey decided, satisfied with his grieving stepson's ability to stand on his own and how he seemed to be back in reality here with him. "Get dressed and come downstairs so you can eat something, alright?"

Craig nodded. "I know we have to do this."

* * *

"It's so weird after a funeral," Craig commented.

His friends immediately stopped chatting and looked at him. Craig wasn't participating in their somewhat forced discussion of a popular band playing downtown. They weren't sure he was even listening.

"It figures that they would throw a big party on the one day when you can't make it," Craig continued. He felt foggy but picked up on a few shocked expressions. So he made an attempt to explain. "That one dude in _The Big Chill _said that. Remember that movie? A friend kills himself, in the bathroom, slits his wrists. They don't show that of course but in the opening of the movie they had this nice shot of his stitched up wrists and then the scene fades to similar criss-crossed pattern in a field."

Craig glanced around. "I know that sounds weird. Unless if you've seen it. It's just…I dunno. One of those subtle things in movies."

"It's a good movie. From the 80's right? It had all the big stars from back then," Ashley replied.

"Must have been 80's night at Joey Jeremiah's," Ellie joked, noticing how uncomfortable everyone looked.

"Every Saturday is 80's night at Joey's. I was here for the airing of _The Breakfast Club. _He decided I was Bender," Sean remarked and rolled his eyes at cornball Joey. "You remind him of Allison, El. It was weird."

"Anyway," Craig continued. "So this guy slit his wrists in the tub, and it's his funeral. All his friends gathering together. And at the funeral party, one dude says 'it figures that they would throw a big party on the one day when you can't make it. You put on a real good show.' And the chick from _Fatal Attraction _was in it and it was her house where he did it, the suicide. Slitting his wrists. And she says "We only do this for people who kill themselves in our bathroom."

Spinner broke out into nervous laughter. For the most part, he had no clue what Craig was talking about and his somewhat fragmented telling of the story didn't help any. He was beginning to wonder if Craig had totally lost it. He abruptly stopped laughing when Ashley glared at him. She looked over to Craig to see if he was put off by Spinner's giggling, and she saw that he was staring off again, his head resting on his hand.

Craig was sick of the act. It felt like everyone was fake. There was his father's family who didn't address the death or why it happened. It almost felt to him like they wanted to act like it was natural causes; a heart attack because of stress at his father's job. He was such a hardworking man. And a dedicated father. Craig had almost laughed out loud over that one. The bitterness in him was harsh and almost felt like acid eating at his heart. Who were they kidding? His father used to smack him around and Craig left because he couldn't handle it anymore. And when they both realized things would never change his father flamed out and shot himself. That was what the real story was, Craig had thought angrily.

His friends were being fake in a way as well. But there's was the more walking on eggshells type of fake. He knew they didn't know what to say now or at the church for the funeral. They had slowly trickled into the lobby of the church, each pausing to give him some words of condolence. He was surprised by some of them. He had always thought of Paige as Ashley's friend or Spinner's girlfriend, just a mutual friend to him. But there she was, pulling him into an embrace.

"_I think half our class is going to show up," Paige had quietly spoken into his ear, trying to reassure him that he had people here for him. She couldn't imagine losing both your parents._

"_They are all showing up for the drama?" Craig asked as he broke away._

"_No, to get out of school, silly," was Paige's quick and witty reply._

"_That's why I'm here. You know I never liked you much to begin with," Ellie had chimed in, hoping for just once slight smile. Her friend seemed so different._

His band mates Jimmy, Marco, and Spinner were there with serious expressions. He was used to Spinner's goofy grin and it was a little surreal to see him so stoic in a suit and sober gaze as he gave apologized for Craig's loss. He wondered if things would ever return to normal, where he was greeted with a bad joke. They had arrived after Ashley, Sean, and Ellie. Ashley was the first to arrive and surprised him with the news that her mother would be attending. He felt a twinge of shock and then a slight warmth that she cared enough to show up. It was then that he realized how cold he felt on the inside. Cold, empty, and going through the motions.

That would explain why he was completely drained now, sitting here in Joey's living room while family and friends dropped by. Craig found it hard to focus on them. He had his right hand wrapped around his left wrist and twisted it back and forth. He could barely feel the pressure and the burn. He wasn't sure if he was looking to hurt himself or not. It was too much work to assess the situation. He wasn't feeling much of anything. Maybe that was the problem.

Caitlin kneeled down beside Craig and touched his knee. "Can I get you anything to eat or drink?"

Craig shook his head in return.

"I keep checking on those brownies to make sure Spinner hasn't eaten them all. I brought them for you, you know," Ashley added.

They got a sigh from Craig in response.

"You might feel better if you ate," Ellie chimed in. "Remember when we were working in the darkroom for hours that one day and I hadn't eaten since breakfast? I went to eat and then was able to get my good print."

Craig stared at her like he was trying to decipher what she was saying. "I don't really have a reason to eat though."

"People have been bringing over great food," Caitlin tried.

"Fine," Craig muttered, stood up, and headed out for the kitchen.

Craig dished up some food from the various Tupperware containers and tableware. He could feel them watching. They wanted to know if he was so depressed he wouldn't eat. So he piled hot dishes and salads onto his plate. He was going to walk back over to the couch, but decided to head upstairs instead. He decided the bathroom was the best place for privacy and he strangely wasn't disturbed by the idea. He couldn't eat with people around. He closed the toilet and sat down. He made an attempt to eat. Food made him nauseous. He tilted his head back and sighed heavily.

He stared ahead blankly for awhile. Every once in awhile he could force himself to take a few bites. Then he gave up and set the plate down on the bathroom floor. By that point there were knocks on the door.

He then heard Joey's voice. "Craig, you doing okay?"

"I'm fine."

"How about if you eat with us?"

"I'm fine," Craig reassured and Joey noticed more annoyance in his voice this time.

"Craig, you need your friends and family," Joey said after a few moments of silence

"I'm fine," Craig was quick to reply. He could feel Joey still out side the door minutes later.

"Craig, are you sick?"

"I'm fine."

"Then come out and be with us," Joey encouraged.

Craig stood up and kicked at the open air. He opened the door. "What?"

"Why'd you lock yourself in the bathroom?" Joey asked and touched Craig's arm.

"I don't know. I'm tired."

"Do you want to lay down for awhile?"

"Stop with this. Please. I'll go downstairs. I'm fine," Craig reassured in an exhausted tone and returned to his place on the couch. He had left Ashley sitting there before, starting in on her lunch.

Ashley froze, her fork inches from her mouth. She broke her gaze from Craig's and put the food in her mouth. She wasn't sure what to say. Did he eat upstairs? Did he flush it down the toilet? She slowly kept eating, rarely looking up from her plate. She could feel Craig staring at her.

"The pasta salad is good," she chose to say after the silence stretched on. "Did you try it?"

Craig reached for a baby tomato on her plate and ate it, chewing it slowly and trying not to think about the texture. His appetite was completely gone. He hoped it wasn't too obvious that it took much effort to swallow.

"Someone brought lasagna," Ashley said and pointed to it with her fork. She was trying not to think about how strange it was to watch her boyfriend nibble on food like a starved teenage girl on some deranged diet. She was used to seeing him scarf down french fries and pizza. She had overheard the conversations between Joey and Caitlin and Craig's appearance said as well; he wasn't eating or sleeping. She didn't really blame him, it had to be hard to do anything.

Ashley extended the plate over a few inches, "I can always get more."

"I can't," Craig strained to reply, his voice barely above a whisper. He watched her nod in response and look away. She didn't want to see him like this, he knew and he didn't blame her. He felt like an accident scene and he knew that if he looked across the room there would be Joey and Caitlin hovering. They were acting like his parents, encouraging him to carry on some sort of a daily existence but there was something more. It seemed like they were especially watchful, like doctors on call for a patient in intensive care and in a way he felt like he was that patient. He could relate to the uncertainty; he really wasn't sure he could pull through this.

* * *

**Author's Note: **These apparently are the chapters that keep on giving! I intended on also including some follow-up on how he's doing a week later, but I think it makes more sense to include that in a separate chapter.


	21. The Walking Wounded

**21. The Walking Wounded**

He could feel memories, feelings that were scattered around, and everything that was who he used to be poking at the surface. He felt vast like a huge body of water and these things were struggling to get to the surface. Everything that made Craig who he was was struggling to stay afloat. He'd get a glimpse of the memory and just about be ready to place where he was and then it would fade away. What was happening to him?

They told him it was stress. In between the moments of bringing him food that he would barely touch and him faking being asleep, they reassured him that his reactions were normal. Craig wasn't sure they were all convinced. But he wasn't all that concerned with his stepfather or whoever else wandered into his room "to show their support." He had other things on his mind.

Craig had to figure out why this had to happen. He was sure that it was his fault and he went over the details in his mind over and over. He started at his father's suicide. It was obvious what he did wrong that night. He was convinced there had to be more. So he let his mind take him back. It was like he was stepping backwards in time, hitting the rewind button and watching things skip backwards. He knew that his father was unsatisfied with him. He figured his dad hated him but needed him around all the same. Maybe he should have just sucked it up and stayed there last year. But he hated it there. Things continued to circle in his mind, taking him out of his bedroom and further into his head. He didn't see the bedroom quietly click open.

Angie cautiously peeked in. She could see him burrowed under the bed covers and she decided to take a chance, slowly creeping into Craig's room. She stopped at the foot of his bed, unsure if she was allowed to be in her big brother's room. They thought that she didn't pick up on things but she did. She could tell from the hushed conversations that her dad had with people that something serious was going on with her brother.

"Craig?" she asked cautiously when she saw that his eyes were open, but he wasn't looking at her. Craig scared her lately. She wasn't sure if he was angry or sad or which mood would be more dangerous. She'd never heard him yell at her before and the mere thought of it happening brought tears to her eyes. Despite that, she continued to slowly approach the head of the bed.

"Hi Ang," Craig mumbled after a moment, his voice sleepy and sad. He thought he saw tears glistening in her eyes but she was quick to smile anyway. He wasn't sure how much Angie knew. He was certain she didn't know the details. A six year old would never be able to understand how a person was so lost that they took their own life.

"Hi," Angie barely peeped back at him. The she whispered, "I miss you Craig."

"What?"

"You aren't ever around."

"What do you mean? I'm right here."

"But you don't come downstairs. You don't play anymore."

"I know. I'm sorry," he apologized and realized that maybe he was a burden to them.

"It's okay. I know you are sad. I hope you get better soon," Angie said softly. "If you come downstairs…I have something for you. It might make you feel better."

He knew what would make him feel better. "Hey kid, you think you could do me a favor?" Craig asked as Angie settled down beside the bed and gazed at him with her big brown eyes. "You know the bookcase next to the TV? The last shelf with the doors? Could you go down and get me a bottle from it?"

Craig watched as Angie fidgeted nervously. This was going to take more negotiating. "Dad's at work and Caitlin is on her laptop in the bedroom, right?"

"Yeah."

"So just grab a bottle, wrap it up in a blanket, and bring it to me please. Grab anything that's brown."

"Caitlin made chocolate chip cookies. They are brown." Angie tried. "Come downstairs and you can have some and I can show you what I made you."

Craig couldn't help but softly smile. This kid knew how to play dumb. It was obvious she knew the liquor cabinet was off limits and now she was just trying to distract him. "Okay. For you, kid."

Craig was slow to rise out of bed and somewhere in the descent down the hall, Angie had skipped ahead of him. He thought for a moment that he felt warmth coming from whatever surprise his sister had in store for him and that reminded him that maybe he was still alive. He had been stuck in nothing but numbness lately. It surrounded him, keeping him separated from everyone and everything Craig realized as he slowly climbed down the stairs. His stomach rumbled with hunger. This was the first time he had felt hunger pangs in days. Once again something was proving that he was still half alive and it stunned him a little.

He stopped at the bottom and looked around the living room. Half of the room was hidden under a tent made by mismatched bed sheets and blankets. Craig smiled a little. He watched as Angie poked her head out and grinned at him. She climbed out and took his hand.

"I thought this might make you happy. Come in," she encouraged and studied her big brother for a moment. "So you do remember."

"I remember," Craig answered. He recalled the night of babysitting where they had created a labyrinth of tunnels out of blankets and declared the game 'tunnels.'

Craig followed her in, crawling on the floor to the center of the tent. She had placed a make-shift bed of blankets and pillows on the floor and at his sister's request, Craig laid down on top of them. Angie was quick to curl up next to him.

"You kind of stink," Angie had to say as she snuggled next to her brother.

"Yeah. Sorry," Craig apologized. For the first week or so he had the motivation to at least shower and rotate his flannel pajama bottoms and the grungy t-shirts he'd always worn to bed. Lately he hadn't had the energy for that and was surprised by how little he cared if Ashley popped by and saw him like that. He felt much worse on the inside anyway. Maybe if they saw how run down he was, they'd realize they should just leave him alone. They wouldn't bother someone who looked like they were on their sickbed.

"Can I show you some stuff?" Angie asked, reaching for the art projects she'd made today in school.

"Sure."

Angie was careful to hand each drawing individually over to Craig and explained in detail what each was about when her brother asked. Craig tried to be interested. In a way, he was. But when he became too involved with Angie, it made him more sad. He didn't think he'd ever be human and alive the way she was.

"This one is our family portrait," Angie explained as she proudly gestured to a drawing on construction paper that was made out of brightly colored tissue paper, pipe cleaners, and cotton balls.

Craig felt tears spring to his eyes at the sight of that one. He willed them not to fall. Not now, he told himself. The depression came on so strong, nearly taking all the strength out of him.

Angie rolled over so she was face to face with her brother. She gently ran her hand over his hair. "You are still sad, Craig. You miss your dad."

"Yeah, I guess I do."

"Of course you do, he's your daddy."

It was nice talking to Angie, Craig realized. He appreciated her honesty. She didn't hesitate and her words were real. She simplified things and said how it really was. She told him what he was afraid to admit to himself. Deep down, yes he did miss him. So he continued to confide in her.

"He was angry so much though. He… could be so mean. I used to wish him gone."

Angie was quiet for a moment. She bit her lip and continued to stroke Craig's hair with her small hand. "But he did nice things too, right? Did you ever have fun?"

"Yeah. He was fun when I was little."

"So that's why you miss him. You remember that. And you love him because he's your dad."

"Now things can never be better because he's gone," Craig said with a voice that was barely above a whisper.

"But my dad loves you. He could be like your new daddy," Angie said after some thought.

Craig let out a sob once she said that. He wasn't ready for any of that.

"Joey says that's how I should think of Caitlin. That she's like a new mommy. She's not my real mom but she loves me like a mom would. Joey will be that for you. He will love you like a daddy would. He'll be your new dad."

0123456790

Joey set a stack of textbooks down on Craig's desk. He watched his stepson for a moment. Craig was rolled away from him, breathing slow and steadily. Sleeping? Maybe. He was always sleeping when he entered the room. Sometimes the only way he could communicate with the teen was by leaving post-it notes tacked onto the wall informing him of who called or stopped by or to inquire if he needed anything. He rarely got a response; not even when he'd written that they were ordering from Craig's favorite pizza place and he could pick the toppings.

"Ashley brought by some school assignments," Joey finally said, still leaning up against Craig's desk. How much time was he supposed to give him to grieve? Was he supposed to force him to talk about it? How could he encourage him to see Ms. Sauvé? Joey wished that there was some manual as to how to handle this situation.

Craig could feel his stepfather's eyes burning into his back. Usually, Joey was quick to pop in and out. What was this about? Just leave, Craig silently pleaded. Go back to your normal life. You have that luxury, Craig thought. He coiled his fist as he felt the bed shift under Joey's weight.

"Did I wake you?" Joey greeted warmly.

Craig's muscles tightened and he was slow to roll over onto his back. It was obvious that Joey wanted to talk and it didn't matter much to him that he wasn't in the mood. It was better for the both of him that they avoided what was in his head. All that was a mess.

"Ashley brought over some school assignments," Joey repeated. "It's been almost two weeks. Look, I know this is a very difficult time but I don't want you to fall behind."

"School is the last thing on my mind."

Joey was silent for a moment. That seemed fair. He wasn't sure how much to push the boy. He couldn't even imagine what it was like. But the sensation that Craig was pushing him away was almost palpable. His gaze and his energy was almost strong enough to give him a good shove across the room. "Okay…school isn't on your mind. What is?"

Craig sighed and shrugged.

Joey felt awkward and used the silence to survey Craig's room. It hadn't changed much over the past week. The suit his stepson had worn to the funeral was still hanging on the closet door and his dress shoes had been kicked off near the bed. Clean laundry was stacked on the dresser, waiting to be put away, and the stack of school textbooks and papers had been growing by the day. Joey glanced at the dusty film that was forming on the TV screen.

"Isn't your favorite TV program on tonight?"

"I don't really know what day it is Joey, so I couldn't tell you."

"You haven't been watching TV huh?" Joey pressed on. His stepson didn't do anything. He just laid there and who knew what was circling around in his mind and weighing on his heart. "Maybe a shower would help."

Craig sat up in a quick and sharp movement. "Do you want something?"

"I just want to know how I can help you. I feel like you are trying to shut us out. We're here for you," Joey tried to explain and watched as Craig rubbed his forehead like he had a headache brought on from hearing this a hundred times before. "Look, I don't mind if you stay at home. Take as long as you need. But I just don't think it's good for you to lie in bed and think."

Craig shook his head. "I don't know what you want from me."

"We need to get you out of this room," Joey said and crossed over to the window. He opened the curtains to let some of the afternoon light in. He watched as Craig cringed as he was used to the dimness. "Let's go for a drive."

"And then you'll leave me alone?"

"And then I'll leave you alone."

Craig sighed for the tenth time in the past five minutes and then swung his legs over the bed. After angrily pulling on some sneakers and a sweatshirt, he trudged for the door. Craig knew his hair was a greasy mess, sticking up in odd places and flattened in others but he didn't care about that or the fact that he was heading out in his flannel pajama bottoms. Joey simply grabbed his keys on the way out and didn't complain. They weren't exactly going out for lunch in a nice restaurant. He probably couldn't drag Craig into a fast food joint either.

Craig slouched down in the passenger seat and stared out the side window as they drove. He didn't even bother with the radio, something that the two would often casually fight over. Today he left it off and hoped the silence was making his stepfather uncomfortable. He should be as miserable as he was with this situation. Craig couldn't help but give into that sensation that he wanted to punish his stepfather. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Joey's repeated glances and he drove them down random streets.

"Come on and talk to me," Joey encouraged.

"I really don't have anything to say," Craig replied in a curt tone. Sometimes Joey's concern angered him. He was being 'fatherly' and he wasn't his father.

"What are you feeling right now?"

"I don't know."

"Sad? Angry? Numb? Betrayed maybe?" Joey suggested.

"Oh, just leave it to Ms. Sauvé and drive Joey," Craig snapped.

"So you are angry."

"Yeah. I'm angry at you," Craig confessed. He'd gone over everything a million times in his head. He could practically recite the final conversation he'd had with his father. And all the others where his dad would take a jab at Joey. Sometimes he swore it was being said in his dreams. And then Angie suggested that Joey be his new daddy and solidified it. His father was right all along; Joey was trying to replace him.

Joey stopped at a red light and stared incredulously at Craig. "Angry? At me?"

"He kept talking about you that night. I don't know if he was jealous. Probably was because you got my mom and then I moved in. You took everything away from him. So he had to kill himself."

"Okay. I can understand that. But I didn't hand him the gun, Craig. You didn't either. You did everything you could do. I know you are looking for answers. And maybe you are blaming yourself and other people in the process."

"You don't understand what it's like. I need a reason for this," Craig said and Joey could see from the look on his face that his stepson was straining to process things. Craig continued with, "I know that it's not all you. It's me too."

"It's not your fault!" Joey exclaimed as he pulled into a parking spot.

"I didn't do enough!" Craig shouted.

"It's not your fault!"

"You don't understand. This was supposed to be how I would fix everything. If he just knew that I left because I did care and I was trying to make things better. I was trying to get us help. I was trying to fix things."

"Craig, how old are you?"

"What?"

"Look at me and tell me how old you are."

"You know how old I am," Craig griped. "Fifteen."

"Exactly. Your father was the adult. If anyone was supposed to try to fix things, to set a plan into motion to make things better for your family, it was him. It wasn't on your shoulders," Joey tried to explain. He could only hope that when Craig was older, out of his teens, he'd realize that it was up to the adults to do the right thing. It wasn't up to the fifteen year old to know how to handle every situation.

Craig was silent for a moment, taking this in. It made sense and even temporarily relieved the constant circling of thoughts that seemed as strong as a hurricane. But he could feel it starting up again. The memories of being hit and pushed into walls was colliding with the vivid details he remembered from that last night interacting with his father. "It doesn't help, Joey," Craig stated, his voice barely above a whisper.

0123456790

Craig wondered if he looked as lost as he looked in the Degrassi school hallways. If anyone was around, he was sure that they would assume he was a guest and offer him directions. But the thing was, he wasn't physically lost.

He was certain to have Joey drop him off at a moment when he knew that class would be in session and Mr. Simpson would have a period free. He'd told his stepfather that he could do that. He'd try to be normal and do something for at least today. He didn't feel normal though. He was sure that was obvious. He couldn't keep his eyes from darting around the halls. He knew it was still the same school; there was the lockers, the banners in Degrassi's school colors, and the displays of athletic and academic awards. It was the same school. Then he realized what was different was him. That shift inside him had changed everything.

The world had just been carrying on without him and now he was forced to try and keep up. He wasn't sure if he could, Craig thought as he pushed open the door to the Media Immersion classroom.

"Hi," Craig greeted shyly. "I thought maybe I work on some stuff for class."

"Oh, sure. Joey told me you might be stopping by," Simpson responded casually.

Craig's foot nervously twitched after he sat down at one of the computers. He wasn't sure why this situation felt so awkward. Maybe it was that he was certain that Joey had been keeping his buddy up to date on his daily activities. He could practically hear him now. "I finally took a shower," Craig said, wanting to test him.

"Well, I'm thankful for that," Simpson joked in response.

Craig watched his teacher shuffle through a stack of papers on the desk and then he averted his gaze. "It's really strange being back. I think I forgot that anything existed. I bet that sounds strange."

"That doesn't sound strange. You are just going to need time to grieve."

"How were you after that one guy's suicide?" Craig asked, fidgeting with a pen. He felt a little awkward letting his teacher of all people into his thoughts on the last few weeks but at the same time, this was maybe the one person he thought would get it and wasn't just giving him the typical sympathetic responses.

He took a moment to gather himself as he flipped through another folder. "I was a lot of things. Confused, angry, and sad. Everyone tries to make the grieving cycle seem like a process, but things cycle and you feel things out of turn. I could go from remembering how awful it was to find him to feeling pissed off in a heartbeat. It took some time to deal with. Therapy helped."

Craig took the assignment sheets from his teacher and out of the corner of his eye, he saw him sit down in the computer chair next to him. He glanced over the sheets of paper but couldn't focus; it was as if the assignment description was written in another language. "It's so weird being back," Craig repeated.

"You can come in for only half days for awhile. Just to get back into the swing of things."

"I had to come in when everyone would be in class. The idea of everyone in the hallways scares me. That's so strange," Craig said and smiled nervously. Everything felt so foreign to him, like he was relearning how to live his life. "I feel, like, weak. On the inside. Like I'm wounded so much on the inside that if someone just bumps into me in the hallway, I'll fall down."

"I think you are stronger than you realize."

Craig sighed in response. He didn't think so. "And I'm afraid of what people are saying about me."

Simpson smiled reassuringly at the typical teenage insecurity he was used to seeing in his students. "I'm sure people are feeling nothing but compassion for what you've been through. And a lot of them have their own lives going on. They aren't judging you for this."

He wondered if he'd ever change the label that hung over his head. Fucked up is what his peers would call him whereas teacher would use the term troubled. To some he was poor Craig. Craig swallowed hard and then spoke, "How did people treat you afterwards? I don't want like all this sympathy. I just want things to go back to normal."

"I remember that feeling after Claude's suicide. I was concerned about all the looks I got in the hall. But you know what? That passed fairly quickly. Things are going to return to something halfway normal quicker than you think. And I think therapy would help you get almost all the way there over time."

Craig absentmindly started up a computer program and then continued discussing his worries. "I don't like how it seems like Ashley feels sorry for me. It's like she wants to take care of me. I don't want that."

"Hey, I think her feelings towards you are genuine. When I returned back to high school the year end dance was approaching. There was two girls who were interested in me and I'll admit, I thought it was out of sympathy because of the suicide. But I think it was genuine. One of those girls was Spike," he said with a smile.

Craig actually looked over at his teacher for a moment before shifting his eyes away again. There was something comforting about the fact that someone could remain involved in your life for that long. He was certain that everyone would split after awhile. That was how things had worked so far. People continued to drift slowly and surely, almost like it was some pattern in nature. They just didn't stay in one place.

01234567890

**Author's Note: **The horizontal ruler that I use as a pause between sections isn't working for me in editing so I've replaced it with 0123456790.

Up next, more on Craig struggling to come to terms with his father's passing a few months later. I bet Craig isn't going to be thrilled when Sean announces that Tracker got a job in Alberta and he's being forced to move. No one sticks around do they? Also, a little bit of a Halloween treat. Who dreams of Craig wandering around in an abandoned hospital? Well, me of course. I wrote something up a few years ago and it's just perfect timing.


	22. Abandon

**22. Abandon**

Craig knew which fence to climb that would allow him to enter unnoticed. He also knew the hospital well enough to know which corridor would take him where he wanted to go the fastest. He could practically hear Joey's lecture now. But what Joey didn't understand was that he knew which buildings were in the best shape and what floors to avoid because of water damage or wear and tear. And it wasn't like he came after dark. Sure, the no trespassing signs littered the neglected property but he had been exploring for a month. He knew this place.

He had been lurking here long enough to have a favorite hospital room. He wasn't sure why he was attracted to it. Maybe it was the sky blue paint that was peeling away, showing colorful flecks that revealed how old the building really was. Just keep painting over the past, he had thought to himself. His camera was drawn to rooms that were shedding paint like dead skin from a sunburn. Ashley had voiced concerns about asbestos when she explored with him once. But he just went closer in with his lens, taking close up shots of broken radiator valves and the gothic slope of an wall decoration.

He didn't worry about things like asbestos and darkened hallways that didn't let you examine the floorboards. But it wasn't that he was like Spinner who seemed to act like he was immortal as he tore through the place. It was more that he knew that trouble would find him one way or another. He just expected it and wasn't surprised when it didn't happen. Precautions didn't help much.

Craig reflected on this as he took another drag off his cigarette. He wasn't sure how that had happened. The last high school senior he'd gotten liquor from had offered and he accepted. Why not? He knew he wasn't one of the kids who snuck behind the gym wall to get their fix during lunch hour or the ones that joined them to fit in. He wasn't sure what his reasons were.

Maybe it gave him something to do. Maybe it gave his mind something to not think about; he had noticed he felt a little more mellow. Maybe it was just another thing to do so he didn't have to head home. The only thing he wanted to see right now was something he'd never seen before, something that didn't carry the baggage of reminders of how things were.

_Craig had tried to get out of the dinner. He had homework, he didn't feel well; he tried to explain it all to Joey. But his stepfather had insisted it was a special dinner at one of Caitlin's favorite restaurants and he'd really appreciate it if he would join them. He had seen how Joey and Caitlin seemed especially cozy lately, cuddling in front of the TV and always going in for a kiss the moment he had his back turned to exit the room. So he had predicted an engagement announcement. He was indifferent to that, but prepared._

_He had prepared for the wrong bomb._

"_You know that documentary series on Unicef's work of HIV/Aids our station has been trying to pitch? My baby? Well, it finally got approved. In a month I'll be taking off for Africa, India, Southeast Asia, the Caribbean…it all seems unreal. I can't believe it's happening," Caitlin said with a smile. Then it faded and she looked over each face at the table, "Unfortunately, it's quite a lengthy project. It could take up to nine months to wrap up."_

"_Oh," Craig managed to spit out. He noticed how dejected his voice sounded but wasn't sure where it was coming from. He tried to add some warmth to his voice, "Congrats." _

_He glanced over at Joey and could see the sadness hiding in his eyes. They weren't expecting this. Not now. _

"_It might not take all nine months. I could only be away for six," Caitlin said cheerily, even though that was a little forced. She hadn't expected Craig to even have a reaction._

He didn't know where it was coming from either. Maybe he had gotten comfort from the fact that each day he could expect to see Joey and Caitlin in the kitchen in the morning rushing around for papers, school bags, and coffee. It had seemed like an eternity since he had sat in front of the TV after school and listened to the rhythm of a man and a woman exchanging conversation in the kitchen as they put together dinner and discussed their day. He could only figure that he was starting to piece together the image of what a home should be, what a family should be. He flashed back to the "perfect family" scrapbook he had created of Joey and Angela. That was before he knew what a family was. Was he starting to understand now?

And in that moment it was gone. He didn't know where home was anymore. But he should know how quickly things disappear. He scolded himself for not foreseeing what would happen a few days later.

"_Oh, hey El," Craig greeted, only to see the redhead zip past their table in the caf. He gave a quizzical look to Sean. "Alright."_

"_I told her this morning. And I guess you are the next to know," Sean said and took a deep breath. Ellie had merely sulked away when he had delivered the news; he was sure Craig would have much more of a reaction. "Tracker got a job in Alberta."_

"_Oh, good for him."_

"_I have to move with him," Sean watched as Craig's brow crumpled up in thought as he processed this. "I mean it sucks; I'll probably lose my year…you guys…but I don't really have a choice. I mean…he's my guardian. Where he goes I go or it's back to my parents."_

_Craig stared down, picking at the green beans and then stabbing at the meat loaf. Anything to keep from looking his friend, his best friend, in the eyes. He couldn't even believe it for a moment. His father was gone for good, Caitlin was heading overseas for months, and now Sean was moving thus starting the drift. He felt hollow inside as he felt something else slip away. He shoveled some food into his mouth so he could avoid speaking._

"_I'm not thrilled either," Sean tried, feeling like he was letting everyone down. He knew Ellie was having a tough year and the last thing he wanted to do was leave her alone to deal with her mother's drinking. He knew how that got to her. And Craig had just only begun to come out of what would probably be the worst time in his life. As much as he hated his own parents, he couldn't imagine reacting to them taking an exit like Albert Manning. He knew the suicide had to be cementing all issues from being abused deep inside him. He could see that almost every day. "I know you haven't had a good year."_

"_It's fine. Whatever. What can you do, right?" Craig finally said, taking a gulp of milk._

"_I should go sit with Ellie," Ashley said, quickly scooping up her tray and making a quit exit._

"_Fine. I'm sure you'll be the next to go anyway," Craig muttered under his breath. _

"_I wasn't expecting this either, Craig," Sean quickly said. "I know you're pissed. I'm pissed off about this too."_

_Craig stood up and jerked his lunch tray off the table. "It doesn't matter. I could have told you this was coming. Bye."_

He had been avoiding them since. Ellie was easy because she was the type to retreat away from them and go inside of herself as she dealt with Sean's news. Sean wasn't in any of his classes and he had ducked in the other direction when he saw him clearing out his locker. He gave Ashley the cold shoulder and was sure to conceal any emotional reaction he had to her confusion. When he would lurk and see her around Paige with a smile on her face, he knew it was for the best. She claimed everything was fine but he could see the past few months had been getting to her. By day three he noticed that she quit making an attempt to greet him at his locker in the morning or sit with him at lunch. He told himself not to be hurt because this was what he wanted. He'd beat them to the punch.

At first eating alone in the caf was awkward, but it had been strange for awhile. Ever since his father's death, he'd become more aware. All of his senses were heightened and he was often nervous, waiting for the unexpected. Sitting there, watching people laugh and eat with others, he had become aware of how different he was. Carrying out a normal life was more complex now, a challenge. It wasn't something that happened, it was something he had to do.

He had to simplify things. And solitude gave him that in a way. It was lonely at first, but then again, lately he'd always felt a strange sense of loneliness. Ms. Sauvé told him that it was because of his loss. He was still grieving. He wasn't sure about that but there was one thing he was sure of and that was that he had to get used to being alone. He was starting to adjust more. That was how it was okay to sit here and the only thing exiting his mouth was cigarette smoke, not words. Nothing needed to be said anyway. What was there to say?

He wasn't sure how long he had been sitting on the window sill, staring out of the opening at the overgrown weeds and brown greenery that peaked up from the melting snow in the courtyard. The bare trees pointed their fingers at him, some poking close to him and he had no glass in the window to protect him. His arms were wrapped around his knees, trying to keep in what warmth the sun would give out.

"Craig?" Ashley called out and stared down the hallway. She wiped her sweaty hands on her pants. She was regretting splitting up from Sean. This place was freaking her out. So she began to imagine the worst. She wouldn't find her way back to her friend or Craig had entered an unsafe part of the hospital and was hurt. And deep down, she worried about Craig's mental state and she wasn't sure if she could be what he needed right now. "Craig?" she tried again.

Craig came around and blinked a few times at what he thought was someone calling his name. Abandoned buildings, even supposed haunted ones, didn't normally scare him. But hearing someone call his name, that was getting a bit freaky. The voice was getting closer. Craig jumped off the window sill and crept over to the door. He sighed with relief as he recognized the voice.

"Ashley?" he asked. He could hear her call out in return, this time her voice was shaking a bit less. What was she doing here wandering around by herself, he wondered. The last time they were here, he sensed she was scared. He turned a corner and could only see her silhouette as she hurried down a particularly dark corridor. Craig pushed open a heavy door to let some light in and the door scraped on the floor as it eased open.

"Oh my God," was the words that fell out of her mouth as she embraced him.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"I thought I was lost," Ashley sighed.

"You were calling me. You knew I was here?" Craig questioned.

"Sean and I thought you might be since you weren't anywhere else."

"He's here?"

"Yeah. We should find him."

"What were you two doing wandering around alone?"

"You should talk. At least we came together," Ashley retorted. She didn't entirely understand Craig's newest fascination. She knew that it started with a photography assignment that peaked his interest in abandon places or neglected and abused objects. This place seemed to have captivated him and that was how she knew she could find him here sitting and staring. She hadn't told Joey where she thought he'd be but just said she'd check. Sometimes she found herself protecting him in those strange ways.

"What are you doing here?" Craig questioned once they located Sean in another wing. "Not that I own the place or anything…"

"Wanted to tell you the good news. I'm staying. Going on student welfare," Sean announced and he saw Craig smile, genuinely smile. Then he saw it fade some.

"So then I bet you think I was being a jackass these past few days?" Craig asked and saw Sean's signature eye roll and shoulder shrug.

"You don't have to shut…" Ashley started but hearing a loud noise somewhere from the depths of the building cut her off and she couldn't speak for a moment. She also wasn't aware that she had reached out for Sean's arm.

Craig wasn't in the mood for a Ashley's survey. It might help her to question everything and have some closure, but he from experience he knew that there was never any closure. Things just circled. So he'd do what he always did, distract. "Do you guys want to see something freaky?"

"You aren't going to drag us off into some dark tunnel, are you?" Ashley asked, her body still tense.

"No. Come on. It's up in the attic."

"It?" Sean questioned. "It as in what? Human remains? A shock therapy machine?"

"You'll see," Craig replied as he led the way.

"At least 'it's not in the basement," Sean joked.

"You have to go first," Craig said with a smile. He stopped at the doorway leading up to the attic. Sean climbed the first three stairs that curled around the wall and stared up the rest. He glanced behind him and saw Ashley lingering two steps below him, eyes darting around the narrow passage.

"Go on," Craig urged from behind. Sean carefully watched his step on the steep ascent. His whole foot didn't even fit on the stair.

Craig's boot crunched on some debris and then he broke the silence, "There's stories about this place, you know. I mean besides for it being abandoned and of course then it's haunted. Remember that one about how if you come by here at about 1 AM and face the south side, you can see a light move all the way down the hall in ward C?"

"It's huge up here," Sean commented once he reached the landing, ignoring Craig. He moved slowly around, weaving between wooden supporting beams that jutted out an angle from the wall and reached upwards the ceiling. He would occasionally part for rusted hospital equipment and haphazardly stacked furniture.

"It's like a maze," he continued as he noticed the attic seemed to be broken up into sections, small clusters like honeycomb that were created by wall or piles of junk. He was losing his bearings as he peered into another section. He glanced behind him and saw Ashley lingering by a large window, one of the few main light sources that weren't blocked off.

Ashley gingerly nudged an old pile of newspapers with her foot, straining to read the title. She wasn't sure they belonged here. It wasn't the no trespassing signs. It was that they were still keeping the memory of this place alive and maybe certain things wanted to be left alone. Things like the occult intimidated her. She wasn't sure what she believed but she respected it enough to worry about things like transferable energy and she hoped that whatever resided here couldn't be picked up as easily as the flu.

"One of the stories is that there was this patient who was admitted for a compulsive illness back in the 1930's or 40's," Craig said, moving past his friends. He guided them, after all he knew where to go. "They called him the bellboy because he would be found up here ringing the bell over and over."

"Then they found him up here one day. Hanging from the rafters by a make-shift noose," Craig finished as he rounded a corner.

Sean abruptly stopped walking as he caught sight of it, lurking in the shadows and descending down from the ceiling. He wasn't sure if his brain processed it as a person or an apparition. It took him a moment to see the rope. He jumped a bit, but didn't let out a shriek like Ashley did.

"It's a dummy," Sean reassured and walked closer, taking in how it was made.

A faded olive green piece of fabric was stuffed with some other material and tied off at a point to form a smooth round head. The fabric was pulled tight and almost flawlessly to form a clearly defined trunk of the body. A pair of ratty pants were fastened around the 'waist' of the dummy and waved slightly as the dummy rotated around. It fulfilled everyone's imagined notions that a ghost simply floats.

"You jerk," Ashley mumbled as she smacked Craig's shoulder.

"It's not like I hung it up there," Craig remarked with a grin as he rubbed his shoulder.

"When did you find this?" Sean asked as he gazed up at the dummy.

"Jimmy, Spinner, and I were wandering around here one day. Spinner almost pissed in his pants," Craig chuckled. He looked over his friends and saw a small smile each face.

"It's really creepy," Ashley said and moved towards a window. She wouldn't face the dummy head on.

"He killed himself up here," Craig said excitedly. He couldn't explain why how he switched gears so quick. Sometimes he was terrified of things like death and other times fascinated by them. He couldn't control the hot and cold. The only thing to do was to try and ride it out, even though it was usually a rollercoaster.

"Yeah right sure he did," Sean remarked. "There's always stories about places like this. It's a hospital. There's lots of great stories about the psych ward downstairs." Sean swallowed hard. He was a bit disturbed by the dazed, dreamy look on Craig's face. He didn't get it. He couldn't even pretend.

"Craig," Ashley started. But she found that she had absolutely nothing to say. She could simply say she was scared and wanted to leave. That was true. But it wasn't just because of the story. Lately, he was so preoccupied with suicide. Not that he was plotting his own, but that he wanted to always be thinking about how other people did it. He had just finished reading _The Bell Jar_ and commented to her that he was disappointed in it because Esther didn't kill herself.

Ashley crept closer to the faceless dummy to be near Craig. She touched his shoulder in an attempt to get him to stop staring up at it. She understood his preoccupation with suicide; well at least the surface of the issue. Of course it was his dad and this was simply Craig's way of dealing and coming to an understanding. But observing his reactions seemed foreign and strange to her. There was times when it was like a stranger was in front of her.

"Okay, this was cool. Now it's dull. Let's go look around," Sean said as he took a few steps away from Craig and gestured in the direction of the staircase.

"It might really be haunted. He might really be here," Craig said, his tone sounding like he was trying to argue something.

"Could be. I don't know if I'd come up here alone in the dark, weird noises going down and shit," Sean finally said.

"I'm not going anywhere here alone, again. It was so freaky before. It would be so still and then all of a sudden I'd hear a door slam a floor up or something," Ashley said. Then she looked over at Craig. "Why did you come here alone?"

"I don't know. It's quiet. It's interesting."

"Did you come here because of this? Because of the bellboy story?"

Craig shot Ashley an annoyed look that appeared to be slightly forced. "You didn't find me up here, did you?"

"Sorry. I just thought that maybe you wanted to talk about it," Ashley said softly. She knew she didn't even have to clarify what 'it' was.

"I wasn't really thinking about that story before," Craig explained, irritated. He knew what they were thinking. It was never far from anyone's mind. "It's not about my dad."

"It's alright. It's a cool place. And if you are ever in the mood to vandalize shit, we'll bring Jay," Sean said, trying to diffuse the situation. But he could see from Craig's tense expression that he wasn't letting this go.

"Okay, you want to talk about it. Everyone wants me to talk about it. We'll talk about it," Craig said in a rush, occasionally gazing intently at Ashley before shifting his eyes to the dummy floating slowly in circles. He didn't have the strength anymore. Something was stuck and he couldn't remember what he wanted to say to begin with. What was it? "I want to go back to my house. My dad's house."

"Have you been back since…"

"No. Joey won't let me. He had other people pack everything up for the estate sale," Craig paused. "But the house hasn't sold yet. I don't even know if everything is cleared out yet. The other day someone dropped off some photo albums and stuff. So…I want to get in there."

Sean and Ashley exchanged a look. "What are you suggesting? That we break and enter?" Sean asked.

"It's my father's house. It's not breaking and entering."

"Do you have a key?"

"No."

"Then it's breaking and entering."

"If we get caught we can just blame on me being crazy."

"We'll have to go at night and we won't be able to turn on any lights. You okay with that?" Sean retorted.

Craig didn't answer. It was strange how he felt comfort in the dummy dangling from the ceiling and a tale of a disturbed patient. It wasn't real, not entirely. That night at his father's always alternated between being real and a dream. Sometimes things blurred so much that he forgot where he was and maybe, just maybe, thought that he would see him in the parking lot outside of school offering to help him with science homework. He looked up from the floor and saw that Sean's mouth was still moving.

"People are bringing you stuff like photo albums to help you remember the good times. There's nothing left in that house anymore. I know you are trying to work through that, but going to his house isn't going to help."

"Fuck you," Craig growled and stalked past his friends. He whirled around at one point and said, "You think I'm going to kill myself like him, don't you? That's what this is about."

Sean was speechless. He wasn't sure how to argue with that, since he wasn't even sure where the statement came from. He watched as Craig's anger faded a bit and was replaced with embarrassment and he turned on his heel and went for the attic door.

"Craig, come on," Ashley tried as she moved as quickly as she could down the narrow staircase. How in the world did Craig make it down so fast?

She paused at the bottom and looked down the hallway. The doors were all open and the light drew straight lines on the floor and spilled on the wall or into another doorway. Further down, two window arches were glowing with white light against a longer dark corridor. Craig wasn't in sight.

"I'm not chasing you again. We're not playing hide and seek here, Craig!" Ashley shouted.

"I'm here."

Ashley sighed with relief when she saw him in one, turned away from them and facing a window. She started for him but came to a halt when Sean grabbed her arm and gestured next to Craig's feet. All the windows at the hospital were a large and looming 6 feet. Only 2 feet of wall was near the floor and Craig had chosen to stand in front of the one was in a badly state and caved out altogether, creating an easy access to the blue sky in front of him and snow covered ground 4 stories below.

"I just needed air," Craig mumbled to his friends and sucked in the crisp air.

Sean sneaked next to Craig and took a firm grip of his arm. Craig glanced over. Then he gave Sean a confused look.

"I don't know if you are aware that you are about 4 inches from stepping out into nothing," Sean commented.

Craig looked down, "I know. I'm fine."

"Okay. I'm just going to hold onto your arm in case if you lose your balance or something."

"I'm fine."

"Good. I'm not letting go of you."

"You think I'm going to jump."

"No, I think you are being an idiot and standing too close to the edge," Sean came back with, without even taking a breath.

Craig was silent a moment and then laughed quietly to himself out of nervousness. "Yeah, you could be right. I'm stepping backward now."

"I think I just freaked myself out," Craig said as he moved closer to the hallway. "I mean upstairs. I couldn't breathe."

"No problem," Sean said.

"It's totally cool. You didn't end up as another story for this place," Ashley added, pulling her phone out of her pocket at the sensations of it's vibration. She glanced over the name. "It's Joey."

Craig waved his hand dismissing him, "Tell him I had my phone off and I'll be home in a few."

He listened curiously as Ashley fibbed to his stepfather and was full of reassurances that they would be home soon, it was freezing out and they were anxious to be out of the cold. As she clicked off the phone she gave Craig a look of warning, "I'm not lying to him again. You and I both know what he would say. You don't need me to say it."

"I know, I know. It's dangerous," Craig said quickly, his tone a little flippant. Who cared if it was? Then he softened his expression. "Thanks for that. I know this would totally make him follow through on those family counseling threats."

"Oh, one of those," Ashley said thoughtfully, recalling her own family therapy sessions. "Those are a blast."

"Yeah…apparently my social worker thinks it'd help, with the whole adoption thing happening. I don't know. Stuff has changed but none of that will help," Craig said with a sigh. "Well, I better head home. Before Joey has a heart attack and then I'm Craig the super orphan."

01234567890

Craig's school days seemed to drag on, even more than usual. It had taken him weeks to fall behind while he stayed home after his father's death, a month and a half to catch up, and it all lead up to this in his science class. Frog dissection. Craig didn't have much of an opinion on this. It was just something that happened. He knew it had been coming for awhile. Everyone knew that the dissections happened in biology. He had even heard the rumors that cat dissections happened in advanced bio. Science wasn't his best subject, as he had told his father many times, and he was sure he wouldn't be making the grade to advance into that class.

He wondered what it would be like if he was still living with his father. He could just imagine the reaction. His dad loved science. The order, the definitions, and how everything added up each time to make sense. None of it ever made any sense to Craig. He didn't understand how all the parts of a system worked together, much less how anyone could take the time to investigate why the body is the way it is.

Craig glanced around the room as Ms. Hazilakos handed him a silver tray with the lifeless frog. The first thing he noticed was the smell. Apparently Jimmy's partner did too and he watched her duck out the door, which prompted his science teacher to crack open a window. Craig smiled as Spinner named his frog Kermit and couldn't resist picking up the listless creature and making it dance once their teacher had her back turned. He laughed out loud once he saw Ashley launch into a lecture and yank the tray away from partner Spinner. Craig recalled how she had complained about her partner prior to the class starting, worrying about her grade point average and Spin's potential sabotage of the project. Craig didn't have much to say in response although he had a hunch the pairing was on purpose. He knew that his was. He didn't know his lab partner very well, other than it was the guy who spoke up to answer the questions that no one else knew.

"First we have to remove the abdominal muscles from the body cavity," his partner instructed. "Cut along the midline of the body from the pelvic to the pectoral girdle."

"The what?" Craig questioned and leaned in to see the worksheet Ms. Hazilakos had handed out several days before. He felt something stir up inside of him and he had to tell himself that this had nothing to do with his father. His father was dead, he wasn't here to lecture him on not preparing for class work. Sometimes he hated science and wanted to fail just because his father loved it so much.

"Now make transverse, or horizontal cuts near the arms and legs," his partner continued on and when Craig finished he watched him pin the body wall back.

Craig told himself to focus. His lab partner was gesturing with his pencil to body cavities and organs that were foreign to him. Craig stripped off his lab gloves and reached for his own worksheets, struggling to keep up. It was almost like his father was just waiting in the back of his mind. He was still a part of him and his voice was growing louder by the minute. Why can't you keep up? Why aren't you good at anything. The intensity was increasing and at any moment he thought he might lose all control and tell himself out loud to stop. Why was he still thinking about his father? It didn't matter. He wasn't here anymore.

"We have to remove the stomach."

Craig glanced over, confused. So his partner replied, "Do you want me to do it?"

"Yeah," he mumbled, still feeling unsteady. "If you don't mind."

Craig was unprepared for it, much like he was that night. He heard the crack, the loud pop he was certain had to be a gun, and he jumped out of his chair. He didn't hear the metal chair crash on the floor. It felt as if he had lost himself. The memories rushed over him and in that strange moment, he felt like he was back at his father's. He could hear that final conversation he had with him.

Craig heard himself mumbling to himself, but he wasn't sure if even that was real or what he was saying. He watched the details of the darkened living room fold back over into the classroom. "What?"

"Craig, are you-"Ms. Hazilakos started.

He cut her off with, "You have to call the police."

The teacher wore a look of confusion and slowly approached the agitated teenager. "Why do we have to call the police?"

"The gunshot. You have to stop it. I have to stop it before it happens again."

"That was a car engine backfiring. That's all that was. The window is open, we can hear what's going on outside," Ms. Hazilakos tried to explain. The staff had all been informed of Craig's situation and she could only assume he was having some sort of post-traumatic episode.

"That's what I thought too. But it wasn't. That's what I told Joey it was and it wasn't," Craig said in frenzy. Then his breath caught in his throat as he glanced around the room. Every pair of eyes were on him.

"Okay, Craig, we'll…" the teacher was cut off again as Craig went for the classroom door. "Everyone stay here, please. I'll be right outside,"

She was relieved to find him in the empty hall, only a few feet from the classroom. She approached slowly and used this time to observe her student. Craig had his head bowed down in thought and was chewing on a fingernail.

"We'll make sure everything is okay. I am positive that was a car engine backfiring. We'll have someone check it out, okay?" Ms. Hazilakos calmly said and put a hand on Craig's shoulder.

Craig just shook his head. Just when he thought that things were becoming half ways normal, it came out of nowhere and surprised him. Nothing was stable.

"If something had happened, the security guard would have called the police. And we'd be hearing sirens."

"Yeah, maybe," Craig sighed.

"You need to talk to someone," Ms. Hazilakos decided for him. "I'll take you over to Ms. Sauvé's office, okay?"

And then he realized that he had just proven yet again that he was 'crazy Craig.' Ms. H knew he was a freak and had some weird reaction to his messed up life. He felt sick as he realized the show he had just put on in the classroom.

"Everyone saw me freak out," he mumbled, not ready to move yet. That thought was bothersome, like a rash.

He couldn't believe he let them see him like that. He was well aware of their opinions of him already (his family was screwed up and he was even worse) and he was likely to snap at the smallest comment. He was more likely to let his fists fly and ask questions later. Ms. Sauvé had given him a letter to bring home for Joey to sign after the incident. Craig knew what that was. It was a prompt for them to have some conversation. Craig didn't know what about. If he had something to say, he would have said it. And now he was supposed to go in and talk to her. He knew she would remind him about the letter again. Maybe she would even threaten a phone call. He would object of course and question the threats and she would reply that they weren't threatening him, but trying to guide him along this difficult period in his life.

"I freaked out in front of everyone," Craig stated again. "Why did I do that?"

"It's okay. They understand. I understand. We can put ourselves in your shoes and understand your reaction," the teacher spoke up after a moment. She put a hand on his shoulder and gave a gentle nudge. "I'll take you to Ms. Sauvé, alright?"

"Uh, no. I'll be fine. I mean, I can go there on my own," Craig reassured. He watched his science teacher give him a look of hesitancy, but then nodded.

He could feel her eyes on him and heard the classroom noises as she opened the door to re-enter. He felt embarrassed as he realized what a fool he'd just made of himself. They all were just reminded of what a mess he was. Why couldn't he keep it together, Craig scolded himself as he turned down another corridor. He paused a few feet from Ms. Sauvé's office door. The scheduled visits were awkward enough. He hated the fact that his peers knew which day he'd be missing from study hall. And now this? The shame made him turn on his heel and head the opposite way.

"I just freaked out. I freaked out in front of everyone," Craig rambled as he entered the media immersion lab. He knew all of Mr. Simpson's class periods and he knew it would be empty at this time. As luck would have it, his teacher was here.

"Hey. Hey, what happened?"

"He's not leaving me alone. I swear, he's always there in my head. If he's not reminding me what a screw up I am, then he's reminding me of how he offed himself," Craig said, his words rushed. He rubbed at his temples. "I thought I heard a gunshot. And I was there all over again."

"It was just a flashback. You are in control. I know that it's scary and it feels real, but it's not. Just let it happen and let it go," Mr. Simpson decided to try to reason after a moment of silence.

"Sometimes it so real. Sometimes I can still see the bruises. I can still see him coming at me. I can still feel it. It won't ever go away. It feels worse now actually," Craig rambled. "It's like him dying made everything so final. We can't go back and try to fix things. It's just…that's our history. He used to…hit me."

Mr. Simpson pressed his fingers to his lips for a moment, wondering how to address this situation. He sensed the student/teacher relationship was becoming blurred for Craig. This was where Craig headed when his thoughts were too intense and Simpson was beginning to worry if he could handle it. He could relate to some of Craig's issues, sure. He'd been where he was with the nightmares, flashbacks, and other residual feelings post-Claude suicide . But it wasn't his father who had shot himself. There were clear separations in his mind and it troubled him when Craig tended to stray from discussing the suicide from time to time, leaking out stories of how he was abused. He didn't have advice for how Craig should deal and the last thing he wanted to do was give him incorrect guidance.

"How about if I walk you down to Ms. Sauvé's office?"

"What?" Craig asked, broken out of his daze. It was that daze he drifted into when he talked about the abuse.

"Look, we can still talk. We're still friends. You know I'll be over at Joey's with bad 80's music," Simpson was hurriedly trying to explain. Craig was already on his feet. "We can talk about stuff. I can try to help but…I'm not sure if I can help with all of what you are going through."

"You are just like everyone else. Everyone leaves," Craig mumbled as he was heading for the door. "I don't have anyone. And you know what? Screw it."

"Craig, I just need to know that you are talking to her about all this. She might be able to help more than I can."

"Screw you."

0123456790

Trouble seemed to find him, Craig thought to himself as he sank into the passenger seat of the police car. He knew he was cutting it close hanging out at the hospital at dusk but it really had never occurred to him that he'd have any problems making his way out. He certainly didn't take the no trespassing signs seriously and it never dawned on him that security patrolled the property. He wasn't sure who was more surprised by the encounter. Craig was caught off guard and could barely defend himself ("I don't think I saw them," came out as more of a question when the officer had informed him of the many no trespassing signs posted). He could tell the cop was surprised by his presence; after all how many teens hung out here alone? That had to be why the steady flow of questions about his home life. Craig reassured the officer that yes, he did have a home and no, he wasn't running away. Which prompted the cop to offer him a ride home.

He tried to negotiate his way out, knowing that he needed more restraint than he had used on Mr. Simpson earlier today, but the officer was adamant on giving him a ride home. What a mess today was, Craig thought and sighed. The ride home was awkward and Craig couldn't focus on the cop chatter that leaked from the radio. His stomach had ached a little when approaching the car; was he going to be treated like a juvenile delinquent and ride in the back? The answer was no and he rode up front like some special case. Maybe Joey would be happy about that.

Craig's posture tensed up as he saw Joey glance out the window and then the curtains violently shook as he closed them. He knew this wasn't going to go over very well at all. Craig swallowed hard as he climbed out of the car and trudged towards the front door, officer in tow. He stopped a few paces from it and watched as his stepfather opened the door.

"What's going on?" Joey demanded, emotions running high. He had tried to ignore the gut instinct that warned him that something was wrong and that was why Craig had failed to let him know of his whereabouts after school. The police car had confirmed his worst fears but relief came like a dip in a rollercoaster track when he saw Craig exit in one piece. Now there was anger pushing him along. "What did you do? What's going on?"

"Just getting a ride home?" Craig tried to joke. Joey frowned at him and gestured into the house, encouraging Craig and the officer in.

"You are his stepfather?" the officer questioned.

"Yes. What's going on?"

"Are you aware that Craig has been hanging out at the abandoned hospital on 8th and 105th?"

Craig watched as Joey gave him a dirty look. The cop also gave a stern glace in his direction and continued, "The one with no trespassing signs clearly posted on the property."

"No. I wasn't aware," Joey politely stated to the officer and appeared apologetic. His demeanor changed as he looked over at Craig, "What were you doing there? Goofing off with friends?"

"I found Craig there alone. With these," the cop responded and handed a package of cigarettes over.

Joey snatched them up and gave another disapproving glare to Craig that was powerful enough to make him look away. "You were hanging out there alone?"

"I don't usually go there alone," Craig tried to explain. He looked over the adults for a moment and then immediately turned away from the disapproving looks. "Am I in trouble for this?"

"I'll leave that up to your stepfather," the officer stated and opened the front door. "You and your friends should stay away from that place. The building is in poor condition, especially in certain areas. The floor could simply cave out from water damage. There are no trespassing signs for a reason. Homeless people sometimes squat there. People who could be potentially dangerous. Don't go back there."

Craig nodded rapidly.

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention," Joey replied as the officer walked down the sidewalk. He could feel Craig standing perfectly still next to him, waiting for his next move. After he closed the door, he turned to face his stepson and simply studied him. He watched as Craig opened his mouth but nothing came out and that gave way into a shrug.

"We need to talk," Joey declared and gestured to the living room. Craig stiffly sat down on the couch and watched Joey silently pace.

"What were you thinking?" Joey finally spoke, stopping to stand in front of his stepson. Where would he start?

"I like to go there and take pictures," Craig offered.

"You didn't have your camera today, apparently. I didn't see you bring it in."

"Sometimes I just need to be alone. I'm sorry. It was stupid."

"You go and hang out at an abandon mental hospital because you want to be alone?" Joey asked, incredulous.

"It's not a mental hospital. Just a regular hospital."

"Whatever," Joey sighed. "I've heard the stories about that place. Heard them in high school. Did someone dare you to go hang out there or something?"

"No. Apparently I'm just, uh, naturally fearless?"

"Sometimes it's good to have a bit of fear. What if you had gotten hurt?"

"I know, Joey. But I didn't, I'm okay," Craig reassured, not wanting to hear the same lecture he had heard from the police officer on the ride home.

"So you are smoking now?" Joey questioned and got a shrug in response. "Grounded. Two Weeks."

"Oh, so before you were encouraging me to go out, to have a life and now you want me to stay in. Whatever, Joey. I really don't care."

Joey heavily sighed. He felt like he needed an instruction manual when it came to this kid. Craig's past was littered with so many dark events and he had to consider them all. He wished they were part of some family sitcom where he could sit him down to smoke a pack of Marlboros with him and knew just the right words to say to scare him out of the habit. There was no quick and easy solution to this. He knew it was stemming from a larger problem.

"You aren't going to be laying in bed or watching TV the whole time. There will be chores," Joey decided and watched Craig shrug again.

"What's going on here Craig?" Joey asked in a warmer tone and sat down next to his stepson. They had to talk. He had to figure out what was going with his stepson. He'd try this approach. "Look, I found the letter about detention because you got in a fight at school. Now this? You know the adoption isn't final yet."

"What?" Craig's interest suddenly peaked. What did Joey mean by that? If he kept acting this way he wouldn't let him stay here? "You don't want…"

"No, that's not what I mean," Joey said with a small smile and patted Craig on the back. "I just want your social worker and the court to know that I can provide you with a stable situation. Look, I know you are going through a hard time."

"I'm fine now," Craig was quick to say. Why did they assume that everything bothered him so much? He watched the concern deepen on his stepfather's face.

"You've been giving Caitlin a hard time lately, what's up with that?"

Craig sighed. His stepfather just wasn't going to give up. He was taking some inventory of all of his actions and probing for reasons. "I don't know. She's just been acting too much like my mother and it's annoying," Craig was quick to dismiss but recalled the last time he'd spoken to her. He couldn't remember what she had asked him to do. It could have been the dishes or to take out the trash. He wasn't sure it mattered. He only knew that she was speaking to him like a parent would and he had to say it:

"_You are just taking off. How can you expect me and Angie to think of you as a step-mother when you can't even stick around?"_

"Are you worried about something?" Joey asked, breaking the silence. The other night was the first time Caitlin had expressed worry about her place in their family. They went back and forth about it some, with Joey arguing that Craig was just testing her and then he finally realized what it was.

"I'm not worried about anything. She's taking off, so what?"

"She is coming back, Craig," Joey reassured and was sure of it now. Craig felt like he was being abandoned.

"Fine, whatever. The other week I thought Sean was moving too. Turns out he's staying now, going on student welfare but it stills proves it."

"Proves what?"

"That everyone leaves. They don't stay."

Joey smiled nervously. "Well, it's true people drift apart because of things like moving."

"Or death. And then it's over."

Joey blinked at the bitterness in Craig's voice and it took him a moment to get his bearings. "So Sean is what has been bothering you lately?" He watched Craig shrug again, looking annoyed. "Did something happen at school?"

"Did Ms. H call you?" Craig sharply questioned, the memory of his freak out in biology fresh in his mind.

Joey shook his head and Craig felt his gaze grow stronger. He quickly looked away and stared out into the kitchen. He wonder if Mr. Simpson ratted him out. He should have known not to trust that guy. "Did…" Craig stopped himself.

"Craig, what's up?"

"I just…it's not a big deal. I kind of freaked out in bio," Craig said. He shifted his weight and then started to pick at the fabric on the couch cushion.

"What happened?"

"It's stupid. Okay? I looked stupid. I heard a car engine backfire and I…didn't even think…I thought that it was a gun or something. I don't know. It just reminded me of that night. I think I said something about it and then when I realized what was going on, I left the room. I could feel everyone staring, Joey."

Joey reached over to rub Craig's shoulder. In that moment he recalled how insecure it was to be a teenager and how awkward it was to know that all eyes were on you. He played up the class clown act as a teen and acted like nothing bothered him. He couldn't imagine what defenses Craig had in this situation. "They won't remember," was the only thing he could think of to say.

He knew that he had to go there. He had to say that he had been picking up on all the clues Craig was leaving behind. "So now you are hanging out at an abandon hospital that's rumored to be haunted. I've noticed the movies you've been watching, the books you are reading. They are all very dark."

Craig tried to repress any emotions. He knew Joey would bring that up. Ashley already did, or tried to. He tried to fight feelings of anger so he didn't have an outburst and risk his chance of the grounding being extended.

"All these movies and books about death," Joey paused. "Suicide."

"I don't know," Craig sighed. "It's just how I'm dealing. Look, Ash is on my case too about it. I've heard this before."

"Well, the next time Robert stops by, I think we should talk."

"Oh I knew this was going to happen!" Craig exclaimed and stood up. "That is why I didn't tell you where I hang out sometimes. And I'm not always there alone. It's not like I'm some freak. I've been there with everyone. Is Ashley a freak? Jimmy?"

Joey shook his head. "There's more going on with you. We need you to get out of this morbid stuff."

"What am I supposed to feel? What do you want from me? I can't react any way without getting all this," Craig paused and finished the rest in a sarcastic tone, "We are concerned crap."

Joey was stunned for a moment. "I don't know. I just want the old Craig back."

"He's gone," Craig muttered in an empty tone that reflected how hollow he felt inside at times.

01234567890

**Author's Note: **Horizontal rulers hate me so I've replaced them with 0123456790.

The abandoned hospital sequence was inspired by a dream I had about Craig wandering around in a gorgeous vacant hospital that was similar to the Kirkbride mental health care facilities. Just google Kirkbride buildings if you are curious. The story about the bell boy haunting was from folklore about "Saint Agnes" (possibly a fake name used to conceal the actual location) hospital I heard in a TV show.

Happy Halloween!


	23. Learn How To Swim

**23. Learn How To Swim**

Joey actually had enjoyed his drive home from work. After spending the day with the summer sun beating down on him in the car lot, hitting the road in his car with the hood down was just what he needed. He pressed on the accelerator and reflected on how this was the most daring thing he'd done lately. Speeding tickets were the only risks he could take with two kids at home. He never would have imagined as a teen that he would be in his mid-thirties working hard to provide for a daughter and a teenager; the teenager part seemed to hit extra hard. He was reminded of his high school days when Craig's friends would arrive with band instrument cases in hand and they sought refuge in the garage.

His band mates were stopping by more often lately and Craig actually seemed a little more like Craig again, Joey thought to himself as he pulled into the drive way. He was slowly taking interest in his garage band and photography again. Finally his friends seemed to show up with him and not just dropping in in some attempt to drag him out of the house. He could still see Craig's troubled past in his eyes sometimes; the boy would stare back at him with a heavy and slightly vacant gaze. It was usually fairly fleeting however. His stepson was never the type to let him in. He hoped he was letting someone in.

It wasn't going to be the social worker he figured, unless if that happened in their one on one chats. Joey took a deep breath and prayed that he would return home to see that Craig had remember his chores and dinner was in the oven. At the home visits, he could depend on Craig to give Robert the run around that school was fine and he was excited about the adoption because it would give him closure to his father's death. Yeah, the kid knew what to say, pretty much to the point where it was obvious what he was doing. But did he know to pick up the mess that cluttered the living room on the average day and vacuum the floor?

The answer was no. Joey's mouth dropped as he entered the house and was greeted with the usual chaos. "I'm home," he managed to say. Keep it cool.

"Daddy!" Angie greeted and pranced down the stairs in shorts and a swimsuit.

Joey scooped her up, noticing the pool hair…and what was this? "Have you been eating Oreo cookies?" he questioned after giving her a quick hug and placing her on her feet.

Craig emerged from the kitchen and shrugged. "We got hungry after swimming at the pool."

Joey sniffed at the air, "Good to know you remembered to put the meat loaf in for dinner. We've got the final home study visit tonight, Craig."

"Oh you're kidding me…we're only a few weeks into my summer vacation. I wanted to go out tonight," Craig sighed in return.

Joey paused to survey the living room. "I told you about this two nights ago. The date got bumped up. And you said you'd clean up the living room. We're supposed to be a team," he said and moved towards the kitchen.

"I said I'd do the large chunks," Craig replied and gathered an armful of toys to dump into the laundry basket in the living room closet that collected all of toys, books, and other random objects they failed to return to their rooms when Joey threatened guests. "Aren't these visits with Robert supposed to be an accurate representation of what our household is like? Barbie always monopolizes the living room."

"You didn't do the dishes from lunch either!" Joey yelled from the kitchen. He ran a hand over his head and frantically looked around. Count to ten, take a deep breath…Craig wasn't doing this to sabotage the adoption process. He was a teenager and all over the place. Normal. Nothing about this seemed normal though. He was new to parenthood with Angie and especially clueless when it came to Craig.

As he scrubbed at the pizza pan, he recited in his head what he was going to say to Craig's social worker tonight. Robert made him nervous from day one, even though he was a nice guy. Maybe it was the forms he had to fill out when he petitioned to be Craig's foster father. He felt like his parenting was being graded here.

"Joey, I'm sorry," Craig sincerely said and put a box of cereal in the kitchen cupboard. "I didn't like…really screw up did I? I mean…they wouldn't just decide to send me somewhere else would they?"

"For not doing the dishes?" Joey joked. "It's going to be fine."

Joey watched as Craig's posture tensed up and then he clenched his jaw. The kid was worried. This was a welcome change from the coolness he'd pick up when he tried to discuss the adoption with him. Craig refusing to address questions about the adoption process and acting like his dates with Ashley being broken was a huge inconvenience and the world might end because of it, well maybe his difficulty was an all an act. Maybe he just didn't want to talk about it because it brought up some kind of confliction inside him. And what was Joey supposed to do about that? All the books he read on the subject didn't seem to help when he was actually faced with the fact that he was about to become Craig's permanent legal guardian.

"We're this close to being home free," Joey reassured. "And you are stuck with me for all eternity."

"I don't mean about messing up this but I mean…" Craig couldn't meet Joey's eyes. His stepfather didn't realize how much of a screw up he was. There was so much he didn't know; his plans later at Sean's barely touched the surface. "They wouldn't just take me from you would they?"

They both looked at the front door at the sound of the door bell. As Joey reached for the dish towel to dry his hands, Craig moved for the dishes in the sink. "I got it," he said quickly.

"Thanks," Joey said and started for the door. He briefly paused in the doorway to address his stepson's fears. "You don't have to worry about it. Your staying here."

* * *

"Angie how about if you go upstairs and play with your dolls before bath time," Joey encouraged after a glance from the social worker. It was that time of the visit where things got serious or filled with details about the adoption process that overwhelmed him and would bore his daughter. Craig never had a reaction; he sat on the couch composed and stiff like he was in the principal's office or church. Only when the questions got intense would he break out of this state and more often than not, they were relieved by his burst of emotion. This kid kept way too much in.

Craig longingly watched Angela race up the stairs. He wished he could get out of there too. He had a hunch that the questions about how he was feeling about the adoption were coming and if someone didn't ask, their eyes would silently ask if he still thought about his father. And how was he supposed to touch on that? He didn't even know how he felt about it. That almost seemed to vary with each day.

"How did the session go with Dr. Larson?" Robert asked as he set down a mug on the coffee table.

Joey glanced at Craig and recalled the hushed conversation they had in front of the medical building before entering Dr. Larson's office. His stepson was adamant that this would be the one and only session. _"I'll go for you," Craig had bitterly declared before climbing out of the passenger seat. _This had made Joey's gut ache some. While it was for all of them to adjust to their family, Joey thought that Craig needed it the most.

"We went for a session and talked about some of the reactions Craig might be having as a result of his father's death and the pending adoption," Joey decided on saying. He could remember the different emotions he'd seen flash over his stepson's face when the shrink had tossed around phrases like 'survivor's guilt.'

"I don't want to go back again," Craig said and played with the fabric on the couch cushion. He had enough people trying to dig around in his head. Besides for Sauvé, there was his girlfriend the research junkie. He wasn't sure if that was better or worse than his friends who seemed to always be watching. It wasn't like they were literally staring at him but more that they were taking his words more seriously. He could just sense it sometimes. That made waves of paranoia wash over him. What were they thinking about him?

"We're going to keep the option of more family counseling open," Joey added, remembering the social worker's constant reminders of how a support system was good for Craig. It didn't seem like a bad plan since Craig seemed to be coming out of what he liked to think was a rocky patch. That was all it was. Craig would be fine.

"I mean, I don't need anything like that. I'm happy here, really. I'd be crazy not to be. I mean, I can't imagine living with total strangers like some foster kids do. Or…" Craig trailed off. He couldn't imagine being like the runaways he'd seen on some big news station story. He was lucky. He'd be crazy and selfish not to feel lucky, Craig told himself and pushed the sadness that always seemed to exist deeper down. "I'm really lucky. Thanks for all this Joey."

Joey affectionately rubbed Craig's shoulder, "Your family. I wouldn't have you anywhere else."

"Yeah. This is where I need to be."

"I agree with you. We want to keep you with family," Robert reassured. "I just need to make sure that all the details have been ironed out before the court hearing."

Joey felt the muscles in his neck tighten. When they had gone over the details before Joey had filed a petition to adopt, Craig had become rattled at some of the discussion.

"_Change my name?" Craig asked, bewildered. He didn't even have to consider that. "No."_

"_We just had to ask," Joey tried to explain. He wasn't expecting any other reaction. It had to be at least a little bit awkward to be a teenager and be in this situation._

Joey had tried to talk to him afterward about it but stopped when he realized that Craig seemed to get the most comfort out of their every day routine. The kid wanted to be there, he reassured himself.

"The court hearing will be attended by myself, your attorney, as well as both of you. The finalization hearing typically lasts only thirty to sixty minutes. Besides for the standard identifying information that was addressed in your adoption petition, please expect to answer questions that describe why you would like to adopt and how your family will adjust," Robert explained.

"And then that's it? We don't have to do these visits anymore?" Craig couldn't help but ask. His smile faded when he saw Joey nervously glance over at him. "I mean…"

"Then that's it," Robert said, humored.

"Well, I guess I can thank my Dad for exiting the world the way he did. It put an end to all this," Craig couldn't help but bitterly utter. Then he quickly shifted his eyes away from the concerned expressions. Joey shouldn't be as surprised as he looked, Craig thought to himself; he couldn't help but make those comments from time to time. He didn't really have an explanation for it. "I'm sorry but I just want to move on from that. From him. He's gone."

"Craig we talked about this in therapy. I'm not trying to replace your dad. He's still your dad. It's still part of your history. You can't ignore that."

They didn't understand that it was worth a shot to try, Craig thought to himself. He was tired of the therapy, the mood swings, and the never ending questions about why things had to go the way they did. "I know. I'm trying," Craig got himself to say. This was a show, an act, keep up the sane routine, Craig silently encouraged himself. He was okay.

"It's normal to have mixed feelings about this, Craig," Robert reminded.

"I know. And I know you guys want me to talk about it but I just need time. To figure this out."

"Have you thought about writing a letter to your father?" the social worker encouraged.

"Is this like homework? Am I going to have to recite it later?" Craig couldn't help but snap. He was tired of all these little tools and tips people like Robert and Ms. Sauvé would suggest.

"Of course not. It's for you. To try to get some closure."

"Well, it sounds like homework. This blows. I'm already doing summer school because I failed geometry. Proofs are like logic in reverse. It makes no sense and it won't ever make sense. I was hoping I could get a passing grade based on sympathy alone but apparently I'm that bad at math."

"Math was my weakest subject too. How are the rest of your marks?"

Joey inhaled sharply. He was feeling that strange sensation that he was the one being graded here. If he was a good dad, Craig would have passed the course. "Craig's always done exceptionally well in English and his art and music courses," Joey stated, hoping to take the emphasis away from Craig's whining about his summer course.

Craig glanced over at Joey. "Yeah, uh math and science are totally my worst subjects."

Sometimes it came to him like a ghost. The reminder of his father floated in and took him back and away from where he was now. He was hardly aware of the chatter between his social worker and step father.

"…_How's science and math going for you?" his father had asked when they were trying to reconcile._

"_Still not my best subjects," Craig admitted._

"_I'm here, if you ever need some help from your old science study partner."_

His emotions went up and down as the memories flowed in and out of him. He went back to family vacations when he was a kid, then forward some to a tense moment after his parents divorce when he forgot to do the dishes. That made him rub at his left arm some. It was strange how being grabbed, thrown around, and hit used to be the norm. Sometimes he wished he had more scars as a reminder because it was memories like this that seemed to shake and startle him when they popped up out of nowhere. He'd start to move away from them and then they were right back, sometimes so vivid that it made his body ache like it remembered the beatings too.

That was why he had to leave his dad's, Craig reasoned. Because things were bad. But he was also supposed to keep his father alive. He failed at that.

"So uh, this letter thing. You think it will help?" he managed to pipe up, slowly coming back into the living room. Robert and Joey's voices stop swirling around him and he felt Joey rub his shoulder again.

"Sometimes it has to hurt before you can start to heal," Robert reassured.

"I'm not sure I'm ready for all that though. It's kind of freaky," Craig said, feeling honest for the first time that night.

"We're not putting you on any sort of time line that says you have to stop grieving."

Craig nodded, feeling some comfort in that. But at the same time, it would be nice to have some guide. He had no idea where he was going and when the thoughts and feelings would stop cycling.

* * *

"What the hell are you doing?" Sean exclaimed as he watched Craig start to climb the fence. A couple swift movements and the tall teenager was over and on the concrete.

"Um, Craig, the pool hours are 1 to 5," Ellie sarcastically stated and nervously glanced around the dark park for observers.

"We do the same thing every night," Craig griped and started to pull at the laces of his converse sneakers. "I want to do something new. Something fun."

"Are you…" Ashley sighed. "How much have you had to drink tonight?"

"Night swimming deserves a quiet night," Craig softly sang and pulled off his shirt. "I'm not sure all these people understand. It's not like years ago. The fear of getting caught."

"If I get caught, I'm blaming you," Sean snapped and started to pull himself up over the fence. It would be worth it if they could get the girls to join in.

"That's fine. I'm in court in a few weeks anyway," Craig replied as he stepped out of his pants.

"Whoa, whoa…" Ellie complained and put a hand over her eyes. "Can you stay in your boxers please?"

Craig smirked at his friend and then shifted his gaze over to Ashley. "Come on. The temperature has barely dropped since sunset. I'm dying."

"Are you sure we won't get caught?" Ashley stated and nervously glanced around. The trees did a decent job of concealing them and the playground equipment and sprawling green lawn kept the neighbors at a distance. They wouldn't hear them splashing in the water. She started to follow Ellie up and over the fence and in that moment noticed that the alcohol was catching up to her.

"Easy there, Ash," Ellie said and steadied her friend. Then she shifted her eyes to her boyfriend that was disrobing down to his boxers in front of her. She had never been the type of girl to decide what her type was but in this moment decided one of the criteria was _arms_.

"Come on," Craig encouraged and dropped into the shallow end of the pool. His body tensed up at the cool water. "Oh wow, that was sobering."

"It's that cold?" Sean said and froze in mid jump.

"It feels good. After spending the day at the car lot with the sun beating down on me and then at your place with no AC, this is what I need," Craig replied before ducking under the water. He swam towards the deeper end before circling back. When he emerged to the surface, he was greeted with the pleasant sight of Ashley and Ellie stripped down to their panties and tank top.

"I'm not taking anything else off," Ashley proclaimed as she eased herself into the water.

"Won't it be annoying putting dry clothes over your wet ones?"

"Nice try."

"This has been my best idea so far," he proclaimed with a glimmer in his eyes. He'd been craving something like this. Something that moved them along just a little bit faster, something that made them feel more alive. He lunged at his girlfriend, pulling her under the water with him. In this moment nothing else matter. It didn't matter if he pushed things too far and they got caught. Half the time he felt dead inside or felt rage surge through his veins. This energy made him feel alive and infinite. It was moments like this that should last forever.

* * *

"You're crazy," Ashley said to Craig once they were alone. Sean had reassured that he would pop back in later after walking Ellie home to confirm that neither had been arrested and now the pair sat at the pools edge, fully dressed besides for their shoes.

"I'm not crazy!" Craig argued jokingly and dangled his feet over the edge of the diving board.

"You know what I mean."

"I don't know. I just felt like I had to let off some steam or something. Social worker came over tonight and that's always annoying. I hate talking about stuff and it just goes on and on until I'm totally numb."

Ashley shrugged. "It's just like procedure right?"

"Yeah…procedure. I'm tired of procedures and meetings and all these people that want to know how I feel. I don't really feel anything. But I know what to say. I know what they want to hear back so they know I'm like normal or whatever."

"And what's really going on? What's the truth?"

It was his turn to shrug now. He had to take another sip of hard liquor to even open his mouth. He used to be able to talk to this girl. They used to have long conversations on the phone or in the park by her house after they both snuck out. Those conversations used to seemed to lighten the load. Now he had to do this. What was he doing? What was going on with him? "Would it sound insane if I said I didn't know?"

"I don't think so. No one is telling you to feel a certain way."

"Oh now you sound like them."

Ashley ran her hand along the rough surface of the diving board. "I just think that people should get to have different reactions to things," she said to try to fix the situation. Craig's moods had been switching on and off and jumping all over the place lately. It was almost hard to believe he wasn't aware.

He was quiet for a moment, not looking at her. "I should just feel grateful that I have Joey in my life. "

"Hey, it took me awhile to get used to my Dad and Chris. I didn't appreciate that for awhile. I didn't want this huge complicated family. I just wanted things to be how they were before. A part of me wanted it back the way it was when my parents were together. They weren't happy, it wasn't good," Ashley paused to look into his eyes, curious if he knew she was silently comparing it to his complicated relationship with his father. "But even when it was bad with fighting and I didn't know what I'd come home to, it was still home. There was almost something comfortable in that. It was just the way it was."

"Yeah, that makes sense," Craig agreed and felt a little bit of relief as he thought about how awkward it was when he first moved in with Joey and how even after time had passed, he wanted to go home to his dad. The thoughts were swelling up again and it was moments like those that words just slipped out of his mouth. "Home is such a weird idea. Like sometimes I just randomly think I want to go home and I don't know where that is."

Something about Craig saying that seemed familiar to Ashley. She wasn't sure if she had read it in a book or heard it said before. Something about that feeling was universal. "I think that's just the feeling of wanting to belong. And you do belong someplace because we all want you here."

"See now it's just full circle again. Joey wants me there…I guess," Craig had to add on. He wasn't sure he'd ever shake the feeling that Joey felt like he had some obligation to him because of his mom. "And I should just feel grateful. Not everyone has a guy like Joey around to do what he's done for me. But…I don't know. I just have all this crap circling around in my head all the time. It's almost like I'm all these different people because I have all these different pasts and in a way I was a different person then. It just all doesn't add up inside me. That doesn't make sense does it?"

"Kind of. You mean like different identities?" Ashley questioned. She couldn't quite meet him all the way on his reasoning. She knew what it was like to want to have a clear idea of who you were and maybe that was why she was always struggling to a certain style or voice. She didn't really know who she was either. But that was different from what her boyfriend was talking about. Maybe with all these different experiences you did sort of lose your sense of self, especially when it was traumatic experiences that weren't safe to keep in your head all the time.

"Sort of. I mean you didn't really know who I was when I was with my dad. Or even what I was like when my parents were together; my dad wasn't always the asshole you know. I don't think Joey believes me when I tell him that. Thankfully we don't talk about that too much."

"I don't think Joey thinks that. He just didn't know the guy really."

Craig stared out, his eyes moving along the water's surface. He couldn't see the bottom of the pool. "My dad was the one who taught me how to swim."

"I took swimming lessons at the public pool. My mom's idea," Ashley replied and recalled the cluster of kids splashing. All the action in the pool had unnerved her but her mother had maintained that all kids should know how to swim.

"We used to go on a lot of family vacations…my Mom, my Dad, and I. So…swimming pools and he taught me. It's actually kind of a good memory," Craig paused. Sometimes he didn't know to process those good memories. They just confused him. Sometimes it was easier to remember his father as the monster who would beat down doors and throw his fists at walls. "You know that one music score from Jaws? Right before the shark attacks? That bom bomp, bom bomp, bom bomp that speeds up when the attack is near? He used to do that in the pool. I mean I guess it wasn't that scary…but I just remember being on edge. He'd sing that song and swim up to me."

"Pools are kind of scary for little kids," Ashley chose to say. Sometimes it was too easy to remember Craig's father as the abusive guy who offed himself. She knew it wasn't that easy for Craig. "I was one of the kids who were scared to go near the deep end. The pool drain scared me. I think I thought I'd get sucked into it."

Craig laughed a little. "I remember thinking something like that too. But I loved to swim deep. It used to be so hard to get to the bottom of the deep end. Sometimes I used to throw things down there so I'd have to go down and get them."

Ashley shook her head. "I've never been able to hold my breath that long."

"It takes practice. I used to spend so much time practicing. Even in the bathtub. I think I thought that holding my breath was something I needed to do to survive. I don't know if I thought I'd end up drowning or what so I had to be prepared," he replied and suddenly realized that he probably always thought that he wouldn't live a long life.

"Kids have weird fears. I used to sleep a certain way at night. I'd never sleep with my back to the door and I'd always have pillows or stuffed animals around me to protect me."

"Awww you sound like a sweet little kid," Craig said with a grin. "Why have I never seen baby photos?"

Ashley glanced at her watch. "This sounds like a good opportunity to say that I should probably head home."

"Ten more minutes."

"In a few hours the sun will be up and the internship will be waiting. I gotta go. I'm surprised I haven't gotten caught yet. You know how my mom is," Ashley said. She watched as Craig tucked a flask into his back pocket. "Joey's never busted you?"

"Nah. I know how much to drink lately so I don't wander into the house blitzed. I'm sure he knows there's beer at Sean's. But you know, Joey is more of the friend dad…step dad…person. He only cracks down now and then, especially when we know the social worker is coming around."

"I could use one of those. We are going into our junior year and my parents are already all over me about which university I'm going to choose."

"So that's why we should come back here tomorrow night…for the rest of the summer," Craig encouraged.

* * *

The dark night sky and muggy summer air felt heavy like a blanket over him as he floated on his back in the water. It was quiet with his ears under the water, muffling out the sounds of his friends talking to each other. He felt weightless, floating there. Craig remembered how scared he was the first time he'd attempted to float. His father had reassured him that he wouldn't let him sink and kept his hands firm under him.

But he wasn't there anymore, Craig thought to himself as he rolled over and dipped under the water. He swam several long strokes towards the pool ladder. He pulled himself out of the water and started towards the diving board.

"What are you doing? Craig, don't. We haven't gotten caught yet but if you dive in, someone could hear that for sure," Sean reminded.

"Fine," Craig agreed and barely shifted his walking pace as he headed towards the shallow end.

"What are you…" Ashley didn't get to finish. Her mouth remained open as she watched him stop on the no diving reminder painted on the concrete and lunged forward into the water head first. "Craig!"

They waited motionless for him to emerge to the surface. It would be like him to swim closer to them and then pop up. It was moments like this that confused time; they seemed to defy the laws of nature and move slower than usual but when the outcome happened, it seemed to come much too quickly. Craig's dark hair bobbed on the surface of the water first, then his back.

"Oh my God. What did you do?" Ashley questioned and they began to move towards their friend that was floating face down. She wasn't sure if the shock was slowing her down or if it was the water resisting her. Sean got to him first, pulling him over and towards the edge of the pool.

"Craig. Craig," Sean repeated again and again as he looked for signs of blood. The guy had to have cracked his head open on the bottom of the pool. Nothing. "Craig," Sean frantically said again and watched as his friend's eyelids fluttered.

"Sean Cameron you're my hero," Craig said in a tone that mimicked the scene between the two teenage boys in _Ferris Buehler's Day Off_. He steadied himself as he felt Sean release him and move away from him.

"You could have hit your head!" Ashley finally managed to spit out.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Sean snapped and moved in to give Craig a strong shove.

"It was a joke," Craig tried to explain with a smile still on his face. He gave Sean a playful shove back and was surprised when his friend pushed back harder now. Craig felt the sensation of the water parting as he flew back against the edge of the pool and scraped his shoulder blade on the concrete. "Hey!"

"It wasn't funny. Not even a little," Sean snapped back. He saw the emotion shift in Craig's eyes in that moment. His eyes glistened with amusement, which faded into confusion, and then he saw that Craig understood.

"I'm sorry, it was stupid," Craig tried and watched as his friends retreated from the pool one by one. He stood still for a few moments and watched them hastily pull on their clothes. He noticed Ashley's hands were shaking and he finally started to move and make his way out of the water. None of them would look at him. "I don't even know why I did it."

"I'm fucked up, what can I say? I was just thinking about him and…I don't know," Craig exclaimed as he quickly pulled on his blue jeans. As he pulled his shirt over his head he heard the jangling of the metal fence as his friends climbed over. He didn't bother with his shoes; he simply flung them over and climbed over in a rush. His friends were moving too quickly. They didn't want to be around him at the moment he sullenly realized.

Craig hung back from the group, sometimes letting them pick up their pace so they would be nearly half a block ahead. He didn't have to worry about missing a part of the conversation; no one was speaking. He paused under the street lamp when they turned the corner. His house was in the opposite direction and he watched as their figures grew darker and smaller as they headed down the street.

"I'm sorry," he whispered again. Of course they'd be upset. Then to himself. "Why did I do that?"

* * *

Ashley couldn't close her eyes. She laid there in bed and stared up at the dark bedroom ceiling. She wondered if they all would even talk about this tomorrow. What would they say? She hated these moments where she felt she couldn't relate to Craig. It was almost an ache of loss because she knew that sometimes he had to go to a place where she knew she couldn't follow. All the internet websites and self-help books on suicide survivors and abuse victims could only take her so far. She wanted to be there but sometimes he was…gone.

She heard the hum of her phone as it vibrated and then looked over to see the flash of light as the front panel lit up. Craig Manning, the screen listed. She hated to admit that she hesitated and almost didn't take the call. She didn't know what to do to help him and at the moment the thought of him exhausted her. She clicked the phone on.

"Craig?" she whispered into the receiver.

"Can you come outside?"

"Craig?" Ashley questioned again and moved towards the window. She could barely see his silhouette by the back porch. "Are you okay?"

Both ends of the line were silent as she crept downstairs, showing the most hesitancy as she passed her mother and Jeff's bedroom. They'd understand, she tried to reassure herself as she quietly unlocked the door and then led him into the living room, feeling like she was guiding a child. She sat down next to him on the couch, a space between them. As a girlfriend, she was used to sitting much closer to him but as she watched him shake she wasn't sure she should move any closer.

"Are you cold?" Ashley asked as she reached for the blanket that was tossed over the edge of the couch.

"A little," Craig mumbled in response as he felt it being draped over his shoulders. He pulled it tighter, hoping that would stop the tremors some. "I just do this shaking sometimes."

Ashley tried not to be too obvious as she looked over him. He still had pool hair. It was dry, but tousled and it was obvious he had been pulling and pushing at a cluster of hair at the base of his forehead. She could practically see it. She had seen hints of internal struggle before although it was usually when they were arguing over something like the notes in a song or he was stressing about where to take his project in art class. She thought he had changed clothes after their late night swim but maybe he was still cold. Then he looked up and met her gaze and it happened again. She didn't know him. Maybe it was that he would check himself out and he became this vessel. Maybe it was that he was haunted and this ghost…Craig…would replace the guy she'd see in school and on dates. But he definitely was a different person right now.

So she asked, "Are you upset?"

"I don't know. I went home, changed, was just going to go to bed. But I couldn't stay there. I couldn't sit still. I was going to go out the front door, like I do every night when I sneak out. But I heard Angie talking to Joey or talking in her sleep. She does that sometimes. Joey says I do too and that really freaks me out. I don't know what I say," Craig paused and clasped his hands tighter to try to get them to stop trembling. "So I went out the window. I couldn't stay there. Couldn't sit still. What kind of a person does that?"

Ashley slide herself under the blanket and closer to Craig, trying to warm him or let her presence be enough to shock him out of whatever this was. She gently touched his hand and noticed that he had warmed considerably since she had taken his hand and led him in. If he wasn't cold, then what was he?

"I wish I could stop shaking," Craig mumbled. He remembered shaking like this after beatings or the anticipation of one he knew he'd get because he failed a math test. He wasn't sure if he'd had these moments after either one of his parents deaths (those events were always buried deep in the back of his mind) but he was sure it was likely. He hoped that Ashley never had to endure this kind of shaking.

It came to her suddenly. Maybe it was father's day tucked in the back of his mind. The day had came and went for Ash. A phone call from her father and a slightly forced family dinner with Jeff. She had sulked the day before, feeling sort of pulled into different directions with her family dynamic. She had almost wanted to talk about it with her boyfriend. She wanted to mentioned her father's engagement announcement and how as much as she said she was okay with it, she still felt overwhelmed and unsure. But she didn't say anything, not to anyone, even to Craig. It was strange, Craig had only one father left (and he was of the Jeff variety) and she had three. She felt guilty in that moment and tucked any feelings deeper inside. He was sneaking glances over at her now and she could almost imagine him smelling it on her. He wanted her to speak. Say something.

"You were thinking about your dad tonight maybe? It was father's day a week or so ago."

He was a little caught off guard but not enough to resist giving a shrug in response. His father was always there. His father was almost like his shadow that reminded everyone of his past. He was the weight on his shoulders (he had always been that) or a ghost that moved around in the background of his life. He was always there but they were just trying to avoid him now. Craig hated the holidays of May and June: mother's day and father's day. Mother's day had been easier with his father because they just ignored it. It didn't exist during meals or the airing of some special themed TV sitcom. Mother's day was something that didn't apply to him. It was denied to him. Sometimes he felt the longing for it, the ache for it, especially at night. It never seemed to get easier. Especially this year, with Caitlin ducking out of the country a few weeks before his school year finished. His substitute mom wasn't even around. Go figure that one out.

And father's day? He was no where near ready to begin addressing that. He could see it in people's eyes though. Ashley's now and Joey's that morning. His stepfather had silently questioned everything; 'do you want to visit the cemetery,' 'do you want to talk,' 'what should I do.' Joey was almost playing counselor instead of stepfather/father. Slash father? Is that how the thought of him now? Was he becoming that much to him? What would his dad say? The whole thing went in circles.

"I…I have to go," Craig mumbled, getting to his feet. "I just think I have to keep moving right now."

"Maybe we should call up Joey. He could come get you."

"No. No…he might think that I'm doing this because I don't want to be there. We are doing the whole adoption thing and I'm acting like this. I don't even know why I'm doing this. Stuff like this keeps happening and I don't know why. I wake up the next morning and I don't know why any of this happened."

* * *

And that's how it was. Craig snuck back into the house as silently as he had out and it was like the whole thing never happened. It was only mildly awkward when he'd met up with Ashley, Sean, and Ellie for pizza. He saw them shift uncomfortably when they first saw him and then the hesitation in their eyes melted into relief once he'd smile and start talking about the concert playing downtown this weekend. They knew he was still there. He wasn't crazy and he hadn't died.

Sometimes he felt like he was dying though. Or parts of him were, burning out one by one. When he found the print outs titled "online guide to adopting from foster care" he felt like he'd been punched. Joey had been leaving him internet print outs on the adoption process for months so he wasn't sure why it came as such big surprise when he came across it again, this time stuffed in between a notebook that held lyrics and a photography book. He barely skimmed over them, tucked them away, and when his step dad mentioned them he said he didn't have any questions. The emails of website links were easier to deal with; he'd just delete them.

He stood there in his room, looking wildly around. What should he do? Why was he even asking himself this.

"Just ignore it," he told himself as his eyes darted over the type.

_Celebrations and Anniversaries: Anniversaries can also be very hard on kids. It is a reminder of the loss that they have suffered. There are many parents who see changes in their children near the anniversary of specific events in their lives._

Joey and Robert had asked him if he wanted a certain day as the adoption day. That is what they were calling it. So he had a birthday and an adoption day now. It was like he was two people; reborn into this family. But he still felt the old Craig, the one who used to take belt beatings and took an overdose of pills because he didn't think he could take it, there. And that Craig was angry.

"Shut up," Craig muttered to the thoughts in his head and went for the box in the closet. His mind tagged it as the emergency kit. In reality it was an empty box of photo paper that was marked as light sensitive. Inside it was razorblades, bandages, and pill bottles. As he yanked the box down from the shelf, he had to dodge the avalanche of sweatshirts and books. He sat down next to the mess and opened the box. Pick one.

"Today is full of surprises," Craig muttered to himself as something caught his eye. The hand made book was familiar. He reached for it and opened it to a random page. His father and Angie next to his mother's grave with himself collaged into the photo next to them. "The Perfect Family." He had almost forgotten about the photo manipulation he had slaved away at in the darkroom in his father's basement.

"It's really happening," he said or thought. He couldn't be sure anymore. All this felt surreal and for a brief moment he actually wondered if maybe this was some alternate universe or an extensive daydream and he was still at his father's. His dad was still alive. No he didn't want that. Of course he wanted that.

Craig unscrewed the cap on the pill bottle and dug in. He put a random white tablet in his mouth but didn't swallow. His throat felt too tight and he fished the pill out of his mouth. What was going on? His chest ached and for a moment something seemed real. What was he doing here? Craig tossed the bottle back into the photo box and made sure it was hidden under a pile of clothes before going for his phone.

"Joey…can you come home?" Craig whispered into the telephone receiver.

"Hey. Hey, what's wrong buddy?" Joey asked, sensing the emotion in his stepson's voice right away.

"I don't know. I don't feel right."

* * *

Joey found him in his room, sitting on the floor near his closet. When Craig first saw him, Joey noticed how Craig had anxiously rubbed at his knee caps. Then he had handed over the stack of papers. Joey was a little stunned. He had been trying to suggest that Craig could talk to him about the adoption for months now. The paper print outs of sites on adoption seemed the best way to leave the hint but every time Craig left it unmentioned.

"What's up?" Joey asked as he sat down next to his stepson.

Craig nudged the scrapbook with his foot was it was better concealed under a pile of clothes. He glanced at Joey and saw that his gaze was on his movements. He wondered if his stepfather was aware of the book. He knew that he had seen the photos before; he had some of them on him that night when he overdosed and showed up on his stepfather's doorstep looking for him to fix his messed up situation. It was strange how he used to follow Joey and Angela around and be so curious about their family. He wanted to be a part of that. 'The perfect family' was what he had carefully wrote above a collage of pictures. Now he had all that.

"I made this happen."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"I needed to get out of there. I wanted out. I wanted him gone," Craig said and shook his head. "And he knew that."

"Hey…hey…buddy, this is that survivors guilt that the family therapist talked about. Remember? You are feeling angry and guilty because your father died and you survived. You are punishing yourself because you feel like you did something wrong," Joey tried. He watched as Craig struggled with this information, fidgeting and sighing a little.

Joey continued to watch Craig. "You can talk to me."

Sometimes it felt like his words had to be forcefully pulled out of him. He felt that sometimes with Sauvé and sometimes the purge of what he thought he'd never be able say put tears in his eyes. "There was things he said that night…"

"What did he say?"

The voice in his head was still whispering it - it's all about Joey. Maybe his dad was right and this was true. Maybe he somehow made all this happen. Sometimes he tried to pin point the moment where he screwed up. He could have prevented the suicide. Sometimes the voices that encouraged this thinking became blurred. Was it really something his dad said or something that was cycling around in his head?

Craig glanced over at his stepdad. Joey seemed so warm; he remembered how that had startled him when he had first moved in. Joey wouldn't hate him for what he was about to say. "It wasn't even just that night. He just…I had to pick between you two you know? And I did, I guess. I guess I picked you. And now he's dead. And it's my fault."

Joey reached out for him, but pulled back when Craig shrunk away. This wasn't the first time Craig had mentioned having to choose between them or he'd sensed it. _"He's my son," _Albert had said in the car lot years ago when the men had their confrontation. They were going to have this battle even with Albert in the grave. What could he say?

"It's not your fault. You didn't choose anyone. Your dad and I both know that you care about us both. I'm not making you choose." Joey got a small glance in his direction with that.

"No one is asking you to forget about your dad," he continued. "We can still talk about him and your mom. I know they are family. I don't want to take any of that away from you."

"But what about what I was reading…something about ending all contact with my extended family. I don't want to do that."

"That doesn't happen in every case. I'm not doing this to take you away from your dad's side," Joey reassured. "It's up to you who you want to see. I'll let you see your family. We'll keep in contact with them. We're just doing this so you can feel like you belong here. Your stuck with me, kid. Through high school, college…when you have a family of your own."

"There was something else," Craig said, taking the papers out of his stepfather's hands and started to sift through them. "Why would they seal up my birth certificate? I mean…that's like taking away a part of me."

"I think it's just procedure, Craig. A lot of adoptees are babies and it's to protect the birth parents who want to be anonymous," Joey responded and noted how Craig's expression didn't change. "I promise I'll keep a copy of it. They recommend that in case you have troubles with getting a passport."

Craig nodded. His heart was racing less now and his body felt less heavy. It was strange how before he felt he could barely move. It was one of the worst feelings he'd had and it only happened a few times. He never wanted to feel that again. "So what's going to change?"

"Not much," Joey said with a smile and rubbed Craig's hand. "This is all just to make sure that you are permanently stuck with me."

Joey watched as Craig's posture relaxed some and he didn't shy away from him when he put his arm around him. When Craig seemed like any other kid it was hard to remember the therapists and social workers words on how he was a kid with abandonment issues and post-traumatic stress. In those moments words like that frightened and overwhelmed him. He didn't think he could make things better for him. But in that moment, he thought maybe he could just by being here for his kid.

"I thought something was wrong with me," Craig replied and strained to try to explain. How could he ever admit that he thought maybe all the pills and the secret sips of vodka were catching up to him?

"What would be wrong with you?" Joey asked with a warm smile.

"I don't know," Craig said and struggled to reply. So it wasn't something he was doing to himself. It was something that had existed in him all along. "Sometimes it's just so weird sometimes. Like I think of the things that have happened and it almost seems like they've happened to…people other than me but it's still me. Like there's this division in me. Sometimes it's hard to remember things. It's like it's happened to someone else."

"You've had a lot happen to you in fifteen years."

"Yeah," Craig finally whispered back like he was using the silence to take a silent inventory in his head.

"I'm glad you feel like you can talk to me," Joey said with a smile. Even though Craig had nearly given him a heart attack with that phone call and despite that he drove over with white knuckles, he was thankful for this moment. It meant Craig did trust him and would open up to him.

"Things have kinda been bothering me lately."

"I could tell. I'm here for you, you know. If you ever want to talk."

"I just…don't want you to think I'm screwed up. Or crazy. I just want to be like everyone else. I want to you to think that I'm normal like them."

"Craig, I'd think you were abnormal if you didn't have reactions at all."

He nodded slowly in response. "But it still really sucks…being angry at my dad one moment cause of what he did and then feeling guilty and everything else. I don't know when it's going to get better."

"Want to tell me anymore about that?"

Craig thought of the night before. That was one bizarre reaction he had at the pool. He couldn't explain that and he wasn't even going to try. Craig gave a small rapid shake of his head and that gave into a long moment of silence. Joey felt Craig rock back and forth slightly and each time he would give the kid's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. He didn't know what all was going on but was thankful he was letting him in this much.

"Can I ask you something?" Craig asked, his voice still a little shaky and his breath caught in his throat.

"Ask away."

"Are you doing this because of my mom? Like you feel like you have to adopt me…be nice to me…because of her?" Craig recalled how a part of him felt like some stray animal being taken in. This guy wouldn't be around if his life wasn't so out of control and he had no where else to go.

Joey took a deep breath. "It's kind of a complicated thing. I know we didn't become close until you moved in. But you have to believe me when I say that you are family. When I married your mom you became family."

Joey noticed that when Craig would alternate his gaze over to him, it would stay longer now. "I mean it. You are family."

"I think I'm okay now," Craig said and shifted away from his stepfather. Joey was quick to nod in return. He knew that it was difficult for Craig to open up to him and he always sensed the teen felt some sort of embarrassment when the conversation was over.

"Alright, alright," Joey warmly stated with a smile and stood up. "I know now you'll ignore me for the rest of the night. But I'm not offended, don't worry. It makes me feel like a father figure to my stepson that's too cool for the likes of me."

"Hey, I'll probably suck up to you later if I want to go out," Craig replied with a small smile, feeling a little more like himself again.

"I'll be downstairs when you want to praise my taste in music, kid." Joey said and paused in the doorway. He knew what to say and he didn't think he couldn't ever say it often enough. "I will be here."

* * *

**Authors Note: **I did some googling on adoption but this may not be entirely accurate, especially since my results were for the US. I'm assuming it doesn't vary too much, at least not in the details that are in this chapter.

Sorry for the semi-long hiatus. I kind of think of Craig's school years in chunks of events so I like to take awhile to brainstorm things that could happen for this year. Angst ahead because I think Craig is one haunted guy. This is the year he is hospitalized but don't expect it to be like the show's timeline. Hopefully updates will be more regular. My chapters have been getting longer and longer as this story progresses, so that's something to enjoy even if it's not updated weekly or even monthly. But I don't plan to give up this story anytime soon. I want to take him through his senior year to graduation. It just might take awhile. You might come back in a year or two and this story is still going. Well I hope not, but hey, it's possible!


	24. Ghost In The Machine

**24. Ghost in the Machine**

* * *

**Author's Note: **There's some flashback sequences in this chapter. They are in italics.

* * *

Joey had to pick the right moment to drop the bomb. It shouldn't be a very large bomb but sometimes dealing with his moody teenager was like navigating mines. "You have that session with Ms. Sauvé today," Joey reminded and shifted the car into park.

Craig froze mid-action and sank back into his seat. He shot a glare at the Degrassi community school sign and then took a deep breath. "Yeah, I know. You told me to sign up for a session once school started."

"We're about a month into the school year." Joey reminded, deciding to use a firm tone. He glanced at the clock. He had about five minutes to play dodge ball about the therapy session issue with Craig. If he wasn't under so much pressure with work and home, he might be more impressed by how Craig was able to avoid discussing certain topics or use Angela as a decoy.

"This is just a one time thing right? You said that since I'm adopted…and I'm fine now…that I'd just have to go this once."

"Yup, just this once," Joey reassured. He hoped he was doing the right thing. If something was wrong the school psychologist would see it, right? And she'd be able to negotiate sessions better than he. "This isn't supposed to be a punishment."

"You've never had to do the whole therapy thing, you don't know what it's like," Craig sighed and wished the day were over. He was fine. He was fine, he repeated silently to himself and felt that itch inside of him. Something was always off. No, he was fine.

"After your mom died, I went to a support group," Joey offered. "It's good to have someone to talk to you who knows what you are going through."

Craig looked down and nodded rapidly. His mom and support groups; two subjects he wanted to avoid. He forced a smile to his step dad, "Okay. I'm sure it won't be bad. Maybe I'll do the whole therapy thing later. But I'm fine, really. I don't think about…stuff…anymore."

Joey glanced at the clock again. No time to argue about how Craig wasn't doing anything wrong by thinking about 'stuff.' "Sounds like plan. So sign into your study hall and then head down to her office, okay? She'll call home if you don't show up, so I'll know."

"Yes, yes," Craig agreed and climbed out of the car. "You know, think about how much time you'd save if you didn't have to drive me off to school every morning."

"No time for the I'm sixteen and am worthy of a car argument Craig. Have a good day."

* * *

He was surprised by how little her office had changed. There was new flyers about internships, hotlines, and schedules of school meetings on the bulletin board. That signified the new school year, but mostly it was the same. Craig had gotten to know this room well and he always sat, or sometimes sank if he was having a bad day, into the same chair. And he knew he'd be staring at the same plants and degrees from university when he wanted to avoid looking the school psychologist in the eye.

He had finally shaken his social worker Robert now if only he could cut this one loose too. It just wasn't any of their business, he sometimes argued with himself and other times with Joey. And more often than not, it hurt more to talk about it than to keep it in. Sauvé didn't agree with that though and he was sure he heard her describe it as poison and if he didn't spit it out, it would slowly eat away at him. Maybe she hadn't worded it that way, ever so serious, but it was possible.

"How are you?" Ms. Sauvé asked once Craig settled down into his seat.

"Oh I'm fine." That always fell out of his mouth easily. He knew she would move in on him slowly with the questioning and guidance. First she would start out with the curiosity about what classes he was taking this year, then maybe it would be his friends, Joey…and finally they would get to the what weighed on his mind and heart the most, his dad. He might try to fill up the hour with discussions on what songs his band was covering and the adoption, but usually the way he remembered his father ended up slipping out of him. Sometime he felt relieved afterward but sometimes it just stirred up memories of growing up with his father and his death. It wasn't fair that they were forcing him to think about this.

"I'm still seeing Ashley," Craig decided to say after mentioning Downtown Sasquatch. "Sometimes it's easier to jam with her than it with them. With Ash, it's like we're on the same page and everything just flows."

"You've been in a relationship with her for awhile, yes?"

"It feels like forever. But it feels right. I even had dinner with her family the other night. Like her whole family, her dad and his boyfriend and her grandparents and stuff. It was kind of this huge deal…" Craig said with a sincere smile on his face and his speech sped up as he described the details.

_It was like that time when he had asked Joey how to go about asking Ashley out on a date. He was wearing that same grin. It made him feel embarrassed some, but he wanted to make a good impression on Ashley's family so he had to shed the vintage rock t-shirt and wear a dress shirt and slacks instead. He could hardly believe that she had asked him to attend dinner at an upscale restaurant with her entire family. She had looked a little flustered by his huge grin. He couldn't help that; he felt like he belonged. That was where they wanted him to be._

_He had felt awkward as Ashley introduced him to her father, his boyfriend, and other extended family members. His stomach was doing somersaults. This was serious and official; he was meeting everyone, even her grandparents. They didn't just exist in photographs he'd seen on the living room walls and in photo albums in Ashley's bedroom. His girlfriend had been flustered when she finally took the albums off the shelves and let him look. He was all smiles of course, looking over old snapshots taken of family vacations and a five year old Ashley cuddled up with her father by the Christmas tree. His heart sped up some; this family dinner was just another way she was letting him in. And they seemed to be okay with it. _

"_Ashley talks about you quite a bit," Robert Kerwin said to Craig after everyone had settled down at the table and ordered dinner. "You are a musician too?"_

"_Yeah! I have a band, but Ash is totally one of my biggest inspirations. I don't think I'd be that into music if it wasn't for her. She's very talented," Craig said, maybe a bit too energetically. He felt Ashley's hand slip into his lap and she intertwined her fingers with his._

"_And that's why you won't let me join the band right?" Ashley joked._

"_I would. If I could, you'd be in," Craig was quick to say._

_Ashley smiled back at him. "It's the boys band, I know."_

"_Yeah but Ash and I…we wrote a couple songs together last week. We just click together when we're working. It's not like that with the guys. Ash and I both kind of have different styles but it all comes together in the end."_

"_Maybe a collaboration is in the future?" Chris encouraged, smiling at the two teens. _

_Craig stayed quiet during most of the dinner, listening and learning things about Ashley's family that he didn't know. Her family was large, taking up several large tables in the restaurant and their chatter filled the room as they caught up with each other. A blended family, Ashley had described them as in one of their first conversations about their families. That was back when he had to lie about his; rich, surgeon father who let him set up his own dark room in the basement and they lived alone after his mother died. He remembered how she had seemed a little upset about that, asking if his dad was the only person he had. And it was at the time. Then came along Joey. Their families didn't blend like Ash's did. He always felt like he was being tugged in all these different directions and didn't really fit in anywhere._

_Maybe he belonged here with Ashley and her family. He was genuinely happy when Robert and Chris surprised their family with news of an engagement. Craig had looked over everyone of their faces, staying on Ashley's the longest to make sure she was alright with the announcement. He was here for this, like he belonged. _

"_You're invited to the wedding too, Craig," Ashley's father said to him over dessert and Craig was a little stunned at first, then broke into a smile._

"It was just really nice of them to invite me to the dinner…and to the wedding. It's like they don't mind having me around. I don't know if I'd want someone like me around my daughter or even around, say, Angie," Craig admitted.

"Why would you think that they wouldn't like you?" Ms. Sauvé questioned.

Craig shrugged and looked down at his hands. "Maybe they don't know about my past. My dad. I don't know how much Ash tells them. Knowing her, it's probably a lot. So it's strange that they don't mind me dating her."

"You aren't a bad person because you were abused or your dad committed suicide."

"You'd just think that they'd assume that it'd make me a little crazy…not good enough for someone like Ashley."

"There's more to you than the things in your past. People see more to you; the musician, the photographer, Angie's big brother," Ms. Sauvé reassured.

"I guess," Craig agreed sullenly. Then he smiled a little, "Ashley's dad is like that, I think. She's lucky to have a guy like that around, even if she doesn't see him that much. I think I actually mentioned to Ash that like, if we ever got married, they'd be my family too. I like that about marriage, where you are actually being accepted into something and not just placed in some guy's house cause…"

Craig stopped, realizing that Ms. Sauvé was watching him a little more intently. He hated when he tended to ramble. He was letting his guard down and things were slipping out, things that she probably shouldn't know. "I mean…I don't know what I just said. My family is just kind of weird."

"It's good that you feel like you are accepted by Ashley's family, but you have one of your own too."

"Yeah. Totally. I know that. It's just the whole night was…really nice. Really comfortable," Craig said and recalled when he first met her family back in grade nine. "I remember telling her that the first time I had dinner over there. And then I was there for dinner where he dad announced his engagement. And even though her mom gets kinda overprotective…it's like I belong there. With them."

"This is your first romantic relationship, right?"

Craig shot her a look, trying to read her. Was Sauvé implying that he was feeling too much here?

"She loves me," he said and sounded like he was arguing something. But it was just sort of this huge thing that someone did.

"I'm sure she cares about you a lot," the psychologist replied.

_Ashley had taken his hand and they ducked out of the restaurant lobby that was filled with her family pulling on coats and exchanging receipts._

"_Too much family for one night," she sighed. "Don't get me wrong, I'm happy for my dad. But it's like the crazy that fills my house around Christmas."_

"_Your family is so awesome," Craig gushed after going in for a quick kiss. "It reminds me of the huge Italian families you see on TV. My family is so all over the place. It's not like this."_

"_I'm glad you had fun and it wasn't too much torture," Ashley replied, feeling like she was choosing her words carefully. Maybe that was simply carrying over from the dinner. Family dinners always had the potential to turn sour. But it had gone smoothly; Toby had stayed out of her business and seemed content with a hand held game and the biggest surprise was how much her mother supported her dad's decision to remarry and wasn't even slightly upset that it was another woman._

"_What about if we ever married?" Craig said with a smile. "Can you imagine trying to work everything out with your family? Like including them and stuff?"_

"_Married?"_

_Craig blushed and looked away. He couldn't blame her for being caught off guard by that statement. But deep down all he wanted was a family. Sometimes it was like he was just thrown into Joey's because there was no where else to go. He couldn't help but always question Joey's intentions._

"_It'd just be cool to like…belong someplace. In a family."_

"_What are you talking about? You have Joey…and Caitlin. I know they aren't like the real thing but they are good substitutes."_

"_Caitlin's been gone so long it's hard to remember what it was like when she was here. But whatever, everyone leaves. It's good to be prepared. And maybe have a back up plan, a place to go…where people want me around in their family."_

"_Well, I want you around."_

"_They all like me right?" Craig asked sharply._

"_Of course."_

"_Sometimes your mom shoots me these looks. What did I do to get on Kate Kerwin's bad side this time?"_

"_You know how my mom is. She worries."_

"_About me?"_

"_She uh…knows about the birth control," Ashley said in a hushed tone. It had seemed like a good idea at the time to mention it to her mother, especially since she was nervous about the gynecologist. It felt like a big deal to her. Her mother only added to her tension when she questioned if Ashley would know if it was the right time and if Craig really loved her. She said she knew he did, even though he'd only started saying it recently. _

"_Oh," Craig finally replied to the explanation of Kate's cool behavior towards him. He could see the hesitancy in his girlfriend again. He wasn't sure if it was the topic of something sex related or something else. He always sensed those moments of uncertainty; she was so thoughtful and never let go. Sometimes it was good to have that around him because lately all he wanted to do was to simply let go. It wasn't even sure what that meant to him other than it kept echoing around in him. He felt her blue eyes drawing him back. "I won't hurt you," he found himself reassuring, enough though he wasn't sure what he was promising._

He didn't tell Ms. Sauvé all the details of course. Sometimes the conversation would reach a lull as he remembered, but didn't say it. Or he'd try to downplay certain thoughts he had. He knew that the psychologist would be all over the ideas he had about wanting his own family, even though he had one. Yeah, that was damaged Craig talking alright. Maybe he should try to back pedal, he realized.

"It's weird how all my friends have different family situations," Craig said, trying to explain why he was talking about the Kerwins so much.

"Ashley is right about Joey and Caitlin. They both care about you very much. Did the adoption help you to feel like you belong?" the psychologist asked, remembering the teens insecurities and abandonment fears.

Craig nodded. "I know Joey cares about me. And I think of him as a dad…type person. I mean he's not my dad," Craig paused, looked down, and blinked hard like that would clear away the residue of thoughts in his head. His dad was back in his head again, reminding him of how he chose Joey. Craig looked up and forced a smile on his face. "After we did the whole court thing and I was officially adopted, we went out for dinner too. It was nice of Joey to do all that."

"How are things at Joey's?"

"It's good. It's really good. I mean the whole adoption thing is final so it really feels at home," Craig was quick to reply. Was he laying it on too thick? He meant it of course, it was home, but the tricky thing was that sometimes he had no idea where home was. "Caitlin wasn't there though. Sometimes I can't remember what it was like when she was around. She sent me a video greeting for my birthday though."

_His gaze alternated between Joey's bald head and the TV screen in front of him. The distance between them and Caitlin felt more obvious in this moment and it wasn't the strange foreign background. He actually wasn't sure what country she was in at the moment and he wondered if it ever unnerved Joey how she didn't stay in the same place. But maybe that was just his own fears. He could only compare it to how sometimes he couldn't remember certain details about his mother. People fade away so easily._

"_Hey Craig! It's usually a big load of it when so-called grownups give you that "these are the best years of your life" stuff, but um my wish for you Craig is that these really are. So happy birthday! Signing off from Thailand. Swatika!" Caitlin said with a little wave._

_He could tell his step dad missed her and was off in his head remembering her and trying to take in what he could from her brief appearance in the video. Craig couldn't help not feeling moved. There was a part of him that hated birthdays, anniversaries, holidays, anything that was labeled with a month, day, year. Maybe it was that he could always link it to something else from his past. It was like a domino effect. He'd go back in his head and remember all the past birthday celebrations, moving over them in his mind and he always got stuck a little on his 14__th__ birthday. He knew the tension was building with his father. He just never thought it would go that far and the next anniversary that was imprinted in his mental calendar was his suicide attempt and moving in with Joey. Sure, it happened but that didn't mean he wanted to think about it. _

"_Now we eat cake!" Angie said, interrupting his thoughts and he was grateful. He didn't want to start to recall what anniversary he would associate with Christmas and New Years. Here he was turning a year older and his dad would forever be stuck in his forties. _

_Don't think about it, he urged himself. "Hey I am the birthday person here and I'm dying to open my big present Joey."_

"_Sorry Angie! Craig is right. Cake will have to wait."_

_He was happy he told himself, smiled softly as he closed his eyes, and jokingly extended his arms out wide, expecting a large box. He opened his eyes and his smile faded. "A card," he accidentally said out loud, disappointed, and heard Joey laugh in response after wishing him a happy birthday._

_He wasn't sure what to expect. But it wasn't that. "Holy! Ten grand?! Joey! I can't believe you did this!"_

"_No Craig, I…uh…didn't," Joey started. The check was a surprise to him as well. It wasn't unusual to receive a monthly check from the Albert Manning estate. The guy had obviously wanted to make sure Craig was taken care of. This seemed like a little much. Albert had a way of popping in and reminding him of things he couldn't give Craig, especially lately._

" _Wait. This is from my dad's estate," Craig realized._

"_He specified it as a birthday gift. I guess to tide you over until your 18th, when you get your full inheritance."_

"_Wow."_

_Angie, fully not interested, demanded "Cake now!"_

"_You okay Craig?"_

"_Hmm? Yeah, no I'm fine," Craig replied, still staring at the piece of paper. His father was always creeping around his life, even now. It was always a transparent thing though; he saw the concern on Joey's face and knew the thoughts that would circle around in his own head about how he was treated and…it stuck a little…how his father died. He was like a ghost before and this check here in his hands was physical. His father just wasn't going away._

"Just when I think my dad is gone…from my head I mean," Craig said, assuming it would be better if he didn't admit the moments when his father crept into his head. "He somehow finds a way to get back into my life. I got a birthday check from him. It's weird."

"Your father is probably always going to be a part of your life. You'll have memories of him. You don't have to try to remove him entirely despite any troubles you've had with him," Ms. Sauvé replied.

"I don't know. I think the whole check thing is like what Ashley said; he's trying to make it up to me. Which is you know, whatever," Craig paused and stared off towards the window. His jaw was tense; he didn't want to spit out any of his current thoughts. He glanced over at the psychologist. She was waiting for him to say something. Even though he'd been visiting her for what felt like was his whole high school career these moments of silence, moments where she was waiting, were painfully awkward. He could only compare it to digging, painful like the excavation of bad teeth; she wanted those thoughts out of his head. He wasn't sure they were right when they said it would help if he would talk about them. "It's like he planned everything out. I mean it's obvious from stuff like this that he made sure everything in his will was in order."

"It's common for victims of suicide to finalize their will."

"It doesn't make it any less creepy," Craig sighed in response. He fidgeted some before continuing. "Lately I've been wondering what he was like those final few months when we weren't talking at all. I mean I hated him during that time, sometimes I still do hate him because of everything that he did…but I didn't want him dead."

"You don't have to feel guilty for surviving."

"I guess. I don't. Not always. I know I couldn't stay there and even if I did it probably would have ended badly either way. And I know it wasn't my fault that he…did what he did. I mean usually I know all this. It just keeps popping up."

"It will help to talk about it. It might feel like you are getting better by suppressing any thoughts or emotions related to how your father treated you or his death but that might not be the case. You might be giving them more power. Talking will help get it out."

Craig didn't want to look at her. She didn't know how it was exhausting to stay ahead of all those thoughts and remind himself of how he was supposed to think. It was hard to get away from; those thoughts always found their way in one way or another.

He saw his father in himself sometimes. It wasn't just when he looked in the mirror and saw similar physical features. It was how he acted. He couldn't even get himself to admit it because it stirred something inside him so much he was sure that he would vomit. Sometimes he got so angry that his vision would almost vibrate with the force of emotion and his fists would clench. That happened just last week when he saw Ashley talking to Jimmy. She wasn't just talking though. She was smiling, that smile, the smile that he knew and it was meant for him. He had started to ask her about it but his voice wasn't his anymore. He could have sworn he heard his father. And he stopped speaking but couldn't silence what was in his head. It was that pinprick of a memory again. His father questioning his mother about her whereabouts. Bitter, lengthy interrogations.

And he lost it after Ashley had left. Craig wasn't even sure at that point what made him so angry. Sometimes he understood his father in scary moments like this. He kept it all a secret though; swept up the broken glass and threw out the broken remains of clutter from Joey's garage. There was only Angie to distract. Her curious brown eyes and clear question "what happened to your hand?" He saw his mother in her in that moment. She liked to creep in at odd times. Mom. Dad. Angie. Joey. What a strange family he had.

He looked up at Ms. Sauvé and was sure it was all in his eyes.

"Do you think I'm like him?" Craig managed to ask while he fidgeted.

"Like who?"

He blushed, realizing how not obvious it was. "My dad. I wish I'd stop thinking about him. It's not…like…remembering him. It's almost like he's just hanging around, reminding me of stuff I want to forget."

He couldn't help but remember his fears about his father haunting him. "I'm not as crazy as I used to be after he…died…committed suicide," there he said it. He knew people like Sauvé appreciated when he could actually say words like that and make things real. He picked at the fabric on the chair; it was too bad they couldn't understand how much it hurt when he said them. "I mean I don't get all weird about the dark anymore. I was really out of it for awhile, wasn't I?"

"There's no right or wrong way to grieve," Ms. Sauvé encouraged and waited a moment for Craig to respond. "Can you tell me more about how you remember your dad?"

Craig sighed a little, feeling frustrated. Joey would want him to talk about it. And he should do what his stepfather wanted, especially after what he did. His father was drifting into his head again; he could almost hear his voice reminding him about how he was choosing Joey. He hated the tugging they constantly did at him.

"I still have nightmares. It was so real. It was like he was actually in my room. He was in the shadows though so I couldn't see if he was," Craig paused and swallowed hard. "messed up from the…suicide. It still doesn't even seem like a dream. But Joey was there and woke me up so I guess it was."

"What was happening in the dream?"

"He was there reminding me of how he was my father. He's just not going to stop."

He could still remember the overlap of dream and reality. His father was there, he really was. He remember the suit coat and even his smell. And his voice was the same, alternating between soft as he reminded him of hockey games and family vacations and accusing as he reminded him that he was just like his mother and he left him, it wasn't the other way around. He just sat there, wide eyed in bed. So it was a surprise when he heard himself crying and Joey's hands were on him, shaking him awake.

"I pushed him away from me," Craig admitted as he recited the event to Ms. Sauvé. "I mean it wasn't really that hard but I pushed him away and I told him not to touch me because he wasn't my father."

"You've mentioned before that you feel guilty for starting to accept Joey as a father figure."

"Yeah, I feel guilty. About a lot of things. I feel guilty because I didn't stop him that night, because I left his house way back in grade nine. I know I couldn't stay but," Craig let his heavy sigh finish that thought. "And Joey. How could I say something like that after the whole adoption thing?"

"How did Joey react after you pushed him?"

"It was so…Joey," Craig said, softly. The sight of Joey was still fresh in his mind.

_Joey's eyes were wide with surprise and after he steadied himself, he lingered by the door frame. Craig felt the anger slowly drip out of him, heavy and slow to drain. He was angry at his father for what he did, everything he did that continued to haunt him. He hated him for that. And he hated himself for not letting it go. There was even a part of him that remembered his father telling him the details of Joey's involvement with his mom; Joey did break up his family, there was truth in that. He couldn't let it all go and now he had done this. He was sure Joey had to be questioning if he'd let a monster into his house. An abuser just like his dad; would he go after Angie? He wiped a tear from his eye and glanced over at his step dad._

"_I'm just going to hang with you until I know you are okay," Joey had explained._

_He hated moments like this. His step dad always saw him at his worst. And here he'd gone and acted like a child and was crying in front of him again. Craig knew Joey wouldn't hold it against him though. _

"Things were normal in the morning though. They always are. Joey always burns a few waffles and Angie is cranky at breakfast and Joey never mentions the bad dreams or the things we talk about late at night. I think he wants me to talk about it all again though. Otherwise he wouldn't want me to come in and talk to you."

"In a lot of ways, talking helps you start to heal," the psychologist encouraged.

"I know. I know that. But I just…it's got to be on my terms. And I want to be normal this year. I don't want to be the weird grade nine whose dad smacks him around or the crazy orphan whose dad killed himself. Maybe this year can finally be normal."

"You were never abnormal before. It was stressful situations, traumatic situations, and you had normal reactions to them."

"Yeah, I guess," Craig agreed and didn't care that his tone sounded doubtful. Sometimes these sessions wore him out. "I just don't want to think about any of this. I don't think about it. I really don't. I spend most of my time running from it."

"Running from it? What do you mean? What do you do?"

"I just don't think about it," Craig finally replied and smiled nervously. He'd never get out of here if he confessed all that now. Pull it together Manning, he ordered himself. "My band and I played at that back to school gig."

"You did? How did that go?" Sauvé replied with a smile. Craig's posture immediately relaxed, feeling that she would ease up on him.

"It went good! Really good. It was like people actually saw me as me and not just…all the crazy things that have happened in the past," Craig said and hoped that it didn't sound like he was arguing something or even worse, that he was lying. It had to just be how it sounded in his head. He couldn't help but worry if they carried around the memories of his past like he did. That was what got to him before the show.

"_Can I expect you to turn in your database assignment on Monday?" Simpson asked and watched the emotions softly turn over Craig's face. His relationship with Craig was a slightly complicated one with his friendship with Craig's stepfather and then the broken bond over being survivors of a suicide. He watched as Craig hesitated on an answer, gathering a notebook and a mess of papers. He was the last student to exit his classroom today._

_Craig couldn't help but feel slightly annoyed. For several reasons. Why did this guy have to pretend to be friendly outside of school and then get all teacher on him? And more importantly, act like he could handle his messed up personal life, act as a confidante, and then bail. "Yeah. Monday. I'm just behind on some things."_

"_Everything going okay, Craig?"_

"_Sure, it's going fine," Craig was quick to reply. _

"_It's a new school year, you don't want to fall behind this early on," Mr. Simpson warned._

"_It's like I never left. I had to take some summer classes to catch up. Because of when I missed so much school from when…" Craig trailed off and the words came out of him, full of bitterness. "Oh sorry, I know we aren't supposed to talk about that stuff." _

_Simpson had to look away when Craig referenced the conversation they had in the previous school year when he had encouraged his young student to confide in his psychologist. He hadn't meant for it to sound like he was brushing Craig off or that he didn't want to be there. But that was how the teen took it. Craig had apologized for uttering 'screw you,' prompted by Ms. Sauvé of course, but they both knew he didn't fully mean it. Ever since then things had been awkward between them and he couldn't help but feel guilty. If he could help all of his kids (he couldn't help but think of them as his kids instead of students), he would. _

"_We're still friends," he reassured the distrustful teen and began to power down his laptop._

"_Sure," Craig agreed and avoided his teacher's gaze despite his light hearted tone. He glanced up once and was sure his gaze was intense. It probably was similar to the look he'd shoot him at summer barbeques with the Jeremiah/Simpson/Nelson clan. Sometimes it was easier to get angry at people and cut them off before they could hurt you._

"_Hey, I heard you and your band are playing at the welcome back talent show after school today," Simpson tried._

"_Yeah. It's been awhile since we played live," Craig stated and felt the worry rumble in his gut. He thought it would be a good push but they weren't ready. Not with the way they all had been bickering about what direction to take the band. They had all been at each other's throats lately, picking at each other as Craig tried harder and harder to push them so they could be ready._

"_I'm sure you guys will do great. Just have fun with it."_

_Like it would be any fun if they bombed. He didn't care if his average math or science grade was a D but he did care how well he did with music and his art projects. And this gig was a way to show that he could do something right. When he was with his band, he almost felt normal. The garage was their little world and they didn't care what crazy event had just happened outside of there. Maybe this gig was a way he could show everyone else that he was more than the guy with the crazy father. He glanced over Mr. Simpson's face. That had to be what he saw. Did he remember all the times he fell apart in front of him?_

_It was coming over him fast and each thought felt like a punch. He could practically see each moment play out. He wasn't there anymore. He was watching it all happen again; his teacher there with Joey during his suicide attempt when all his disgusting secrets of being abused came out and how he was there after his father died. Craig hated himself and wasn't sure why. Maybe it was that all of that had actually happened. Or it could be something else that was making him angry. Maybe it was that he trusted that guy and he knew now it was utter bullshit when magazines or internet websites advised you to seek out your teacher, clergy member, or other adult to talk to. That was just crisis intervention. They only wanted to drop you off to someone else because you were too much of a mess. No one wants to be there._

"_Yeah, well I gotta go. Set up before the show," Craig quickly said and started for the door with his head down. _

"_Good luck," he heard from behind him._

_He couldn't shake that feeling. Everything around him seemed to remind him of things that had happened before that and before that…and before that…_

_Craig felt Marco's gaze and he looked down at his shaking hands. His fingers slipped on his guitar case as he tried to open it. "Are you okay?" he heard him ask._

"_Yeah I'm fine," Craig was quick to respond. He wiped his palms on his jeans. "Just nerves."_

"_Never knew you to get nervous before a show."_

"_Have you ever felt like you were just constantly running? Like you were trying to get some place, only it's inside of you? I mean I used to think it was like actually going someplace…like back in grade nine when I wanted to take off to BC…but I don't think it is," Craig reflected, feeling like the walls were closing in. He was stuck…trapped. _

"_I'm not sure if now is the best time for a philosophical discussion," Marco replied, his tone sounding more rushed as he picked up on Craig's intensity._

"_Yeah. Yeah," Craig agreed and nodded rapidly. He had to get out, get it out of his head. "It makes me so tired though. Look, I'll be right back."_

"_What?" Marco proclaimed and whirled around to watch his friend rush from backstage._

"_We go on in like five minutes!" Craig heard Jimmy protest. But he was out the door now._

_It was strange how he was too much there but gone at the same time; it was like he was floating down the hall and the metal of his locker was harshly cold at first and then that faded too. What was going on? He was slipping, he heard a voice say in his head. _

"_It's okay," he found himself saying out loud and then glanced around the hall, embarrassed. There was no one around and he could hear the crowd growing louder in the gym. It's fine to do this, just this once, he reassured himself and the Gatorade bottle was out of his backpack and in his hands. The first gulp burned his throat. Lately he'd been spiking it with more vodka; his booze of choice, at least in school, because no one could smell it. Or at least that's what he chose to believe. He gulped down more as if he had just competed in a basketball game and was dying of thirst. He chose the sports drink because it had electrolytes and in theory the buzz would hit him faster. He learned that from a fellow party-goer and when his girlfriend had refused the drink, insisting you weren't suppose to mix the two because it hits your system too hard and could be dangerous, Craig knew it was the right method. He found himself developing weird logic like that. Get up, quicker, faster, stronger._

_He tucked the bottle back in his locker and popped a few mints in his mouth. Better safe than sorry. He couldn't imagine what he'd do if they (he wasn't even sure who they was) found out and decided this was something he shouldn't do. It was a good plan, he reassured himself, as he bumped into Jimmy in the hallway._

"_We are going on…like…now," Jimmy snapped, his gaze firm and disapproving._

_Craig swore that he never tore his eyes from him as they performed. As he exited the stage he could feel them burning into the back of his head. The smile he wore on stage was off now._

"_Well, that sucked," Craig commented. "Is it too much to ask for you to keep up with the tempo?" he accused of Marco._

"_Yeah well, Jimmy threw me off when he came late in on the bridge."_

"_Craig always comes in first," Jimmy objected. He shot an angry glance over at Craig. "You weren't sober out there were you?" _

"_What are you talking about?" Craig casually said looked over to see Ashley weaving her way through the crowded backstage towards them._

"_Nothing. You didn't duck out to take a few shots of that vodka I know you keep in your locker. That didn't happen."_

"_Come on…don't," Craig said and glanced in Ashley's direction again. Jimmy followed his gaze._

"_She doesn't know does she? She doesn't know what you do. Or how often you do it. And you don't want her to," Jimmy snapped, feeling that bitterness wash over him. He couldn't help it but sometimes he couldn't ignore the fact that Ashley was his ex. That made it hard to look away from the details of her and Craig's relationship._

"_I'm fine. There's nothing to keep a secret. And you know what? She's usually there with me at Cameron's, drinking a few right along side me. It's normal."_

"_Yeah. You keep telling yourself that." _

_Jimmy had stopped but Craig could practically hear the rest in his head. So that charisma and confidence he'd just shown off on stage, that wasn't really him. So the looks the girls were shooting him while he sang wasn't real either. It was just another show. Sometimes it was hard to keep a grasp on what really was genuine. _

_Marco snapped his guitar case closed and turned around, "We all made our share of mistakes."_

_Jimmy glanced over at Craig and saw that he was doing that far away gaze again. It was like Marco to cut him slack. _

"_Look, whatevers in your head…just deal with it," Jimmy stated before stalking off._

"_What was that about?" Ashley asked._

"_Nothing…he's just busting my balls over starting the bridge late," Craig reassured, feeling like he just dodged a bullet. _

"We've just been on each others nerves lately," Craig was quick to explain when Ms. Sauvé asked about tension between his friends. He didn't tell her what really happened; he couldn't. He just tried to play up how the concert went better than they expected and complained some about the direction his friends wanted to take the band. He couldn't say this wasn't the first time Jimmy had snapped at him; just last week he smoked a joint with Spinner before band practice and they both got a lecture how they didn't care about the band.

"How are things with your friends when you are in school?"

"Oh we're totally fine in school. It's just the band. We have different tastes in music and want the band to go in different directions. It's not like last year at all when we just got together to play," Craig said and glanced at the clock. The hour was up, finally. "The bell is going to ring soon."

Ms. Sauvé glanced at the clock and when her gaze returned to Craig, he was already on his feet and gathering his back pack. "You can always stop by if you need to talk."

"Yeah, I know. But I have friends, Joey…really I'm fine now."

"I'm here to help you with your internship process as well."

Craig lingered by the door. "Yeah…so I'll still be stopping in every now and then. And next year I have to start planning for university; it's crazy."

"I'll be there to help you out with all of that. And anything else you need help managing."

He felt her touch his shoulder. Out of sympathy, he assumed. He had to be on the school's list of most troubled students, if a list like that existed. He managed to look up and give her a smile. "I'll see you around," he said and opened the door.

"Have a good day, Craig," he heard her call out as he moved out into the hallway. He felt lighter now. He'd never have to talk about any of that again. It was gone, he told himself. It would be like it never happened, he could make it that way.

He moved through the students and found Ashley and Sean at Ellie's locker. "After that, I'm starving. I want extra Shelia sauce today, let's go eat."

"How'd it go?" Ashley asked as the group moved down the hall towards the school's cafeteria for lunch.

Normally Craig would make a sarcastic remark. Ashley was always interested in stuff like this and while he knew she was doing it because she cared, it still annoyed him. But not today. "Great. I graduated therapy today."

"Oh that's something you can graduate from? I'd like honors," Ellie replied.

"In my case yes. This is the first time it's not ordered my social worker or the court or whoever. It's finally my decision," Craig said, feeling what he only could interpret as being free.

"So you aren't going to see her at all?" Ashley asked, hoping that she didn't seem too encouraging.

Ellie noticed the small glance Ashley shot over at her. She refrained from rolling her eyes. Like the fact that she and Craig had been in therapy meant any sort of bond was there. Having a bit of crazy wasn't some common interest. "Sometimes I pop in to see her from time to time. She doesn't pressure me to do it," Ellie offered.

"Look, I appreciate the concern or whatever…but I'm fine. Next thing I know you all are going to be using the whole 'think of it as maintence' persuasion that Joey uses. I'm not a car. I don't need my oil changed or my tires rotated or my transmission fluid changed."

"Do you even know where the transmission is?" Sean joked, wanting to relieve the tension.

"Of course I know…" Craig mumbled. Then he spoke up, "This is why you should come by the car lot today. Birthday gift from my late father was a big fat check. Almost tore it up…then I thought about paying a visit to the music store but then I decided that I should live out the recently licensed sixteen year olds dream and land me a car."

"Is there anything in this that benefits me?"

Craig shrugged and pushed open the doors to the cafeteria. "You want all rights to riding shotgun, minus whenever Ash is with."

"Oh how thoughtful, Craig," Ashley said and gave him a playful push.

"You aren't going to be spending most of your time in the backseat?" Ellie sarcastically asked and watched her blush.

"Okay, this needs to happen," Craig said with a grin on his face. "I just have to convince Joey. Really, it benefits him too. Money goes towards the car lot and I…we…all of us…will have a car. This year is going to be amazing."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Sorry for the long wait, guys. I love all of you who are sticking with me as this slowly makes it's way to the internet. The next few chapters should happen more quickly; I'm really excited to write them. Craig's year isn't going to be amazing at all, he's Craig. Angst finds him. I'm drawing some off of the episodes and the next chapter is inspired by "Anywhere I Lay My Head." There's some Sellie and this is one of the few times I'm keeping the episode pretty much as is. I won't be retelling it though, just tossing in some extra moments that's going to help send Craig spiraling even more out of control. Then it will be the "Voices Carry" chapters (the school shooting is going to be addressed some way in this chapter so no worries about that being left out), which are probably going to be anything but what was in the episode. It makes me kind of sad not to have the wedding, but I think at this point it's going to work out for the best. He's still going to have interaction with Ashley's family; I've always been interested in their dynamic. It's just different now that he's not a cheater; Kate will still find reasons to be weary of Craig though, don't worry.

As for this chapter, I was just playing with ways to reference different events in Craig's life and I hope the flow works and it wasn't too confusing when alternating between his flashbacks and session with Ms. Sauvé.


	25. Comfortably Numb

**25. Comfortably Numb**

It came over him soft and heavy, almost like sleep and suddenly the shopping mall was like something he'd only seen in a dream. It was surreal but so right. Craig looked around the toy department; there was the little girl crying for a new Barbie, an older sister handing a teddy bear to her younger one, and the frantic mother of four that was urging her young that now was time to go home. They didn't bother them and in a way, in that way that you only feel when you are this up, he loved that they were sharing this moment. He looked down at Angie and smiled; the past was gone and it was just this moment.

This might have been their fifth trip back to the toy section, Craig couldn't be sure. He just let Angie take his hand and lead him around the store. He would prompt her with questions about the merchandise they saw and Angie giggled at him when he couldn't help but occasionally ramble a bit; things were rolling around in his head weightless and he couldn't help but let him drift out his mouth that never closed all the way. Today felt like it was in bits and pieces.

How'd he end up here, Craig wondered.

_Ashley was in Montreal for the weekend and a part of him was relieved. He couldn't take her to a party like this, not after she found a stash in his locker. At first he had to reassure himself that she wasn't snooping, didn't want to catch him in the act (he didn't know where this guilt was coming from), and had only made the discovery because they were that comfortable around each other that it wasn't unusual for them to poke around in each other's belongings. He had quietly reassured her that lots of kids took them and no one has had problems so far. Since then, Ash had been emailing him websites on a variety of pills; what they looked like, how many milligrams was in what colored tablet, and what he shouldn't mix it with. How very Ashley of her to research drugs. He first found it sort of endearing but lately worried that she was taking too much of an interest in what he was doing. _

_He told Sean and Ellie the band was practicing. They had almost seemed eager that the group wouldn't be getting together on a Friday night. Since the two had moved into Sean's apartment together, they had been in some weird newlywed mode. So there was no need to lie, but Craig couldn't help but lie out of habit lately. Sean's parties had been growing tamer since Mr. Eyl had threatened Sean's student welfare last year and Ellie's mother's drinking had reached a new height. He didn't know what they would think about this._

_Craig found it almost amusing to compare the get togethers at Luke's were to the ones that used to happen at Sean's. At Sean's it was usually only beer and cheap liquor. There was more options at Luke's parties, many more options. Craig wondered how Luke got away with the petty drug dealing and house parties when it parents were out of town. It was kind of awkward, for several reasons, when he actually met his new friend's parents; both high ups on some well known business chains. It was sort of obvious they looked the other way, content with his buddy's mediocre grades. They were nice to Craig though, taking interest in him. He had shifted uncomfortably when Luke's father seemed stuck on Craig's last name, like he knew him from somewhere. Albert Manning, he finally realized, snapping his fingers. They met at some convention or luncheon lecture. Small world. Craig had to deliver the news that his dad passed away and that night had crushed several muscle relaxers and mixed them into his drink._

_Craig looked down at the pills being pushed across the coffee table, divided into uppers, downers, and by strength. That was what was common at Luke's. The kids he met there would hand over an assortment of pills swiped from the medicine cabinets at home. The last time Craig brought muscle relaxers from when Joey threw out his back. Beers were being cracked, pills popped, and a few tucked cash back into their pockets. And it was only the afternoon. He wasn't sure why he decided to take the strongest dose of Oxy he'd ever taken, minus the overdose incident at the beginning of his grade 9 year. But this was different. It was intentional…no, unintentional. It wasn't worth silently fussing over, he decided. It was easy not to hesitate with this crowd; they kind of prided themselves on that attitude._

_He swore that he felt the high right away, but quickly realized it was just the anticipation of it. So he settled back on the couch in Luke's basement. He flipped the channel to a music channel and felt the bass through the floor. He felt the couch cushions shift as someone sat beside him and he looked over in time to see Evie take another shot of liquor._

"_I like you. I appreciate the fact that you aren't a mooch," Craig said, noticing that this girl always brought her own alcohol and it was a higher up brand._

"_You'll drink the cheapest booze out there," Evie said, shaking her head. She wasn't always careful about how much she drank, but she watched what kind she put into her body. It made sense to her. "You are like a garbage can."_

"_It gets the job done. That's all that matters."_

"_I can appreciate that. But I'm a firm believer that life is too short for cheap liquor."_

"_I don't get how you have the cash to drink like you do," Craig observed. "Or how you can party like that, then go to homeroom, finish your homework, and get an A at it."_

"_Practice makes perfect. And I'm flattered you noticed."_

_He did notice the kids at these parties in school, who went to class and who had what lunch period. He kind of had to shuffle them around with crowds he hung out with. There was people like Jimmy the jock and Marco the school student body president who wouldn't know where parties like this happened. Sometimes he found himself making rules like who's phone call he could take drunk or high and who was best to avoid._

"_Shit. Shit," Craig mumbled, hesitating on taking the call. He cleared his throat and reassured himself that he was still 100% sober. "Hey Joey. What's up?"_

"_Craig, you were supposed to pick Angie up from daycare and take her to the mall to pick up new shoes, remember? We made a deal about the car. You said you'd help out more and in return you'd get more freedom," Joey reminded over the cell phone._

"_Joey, can't it wait until tomorrow? I'll make a day out of it for her," Craig tried and watched as two more teenagers wandered downstairs, beers in hand. "I'm at Sean's right now, I thought I told you I was spending the night."_

_Joey sighed at that. He heard the music in the background and reflected on the phone call with Caitlin recently. He told her about the car and how Craig was missing curfew more and more frequently. His girlfriend thought he wasn't cracking down enough. Sometimes he thought he didn't have that right because he wasn't Craig's birth father. He was the stepfather. No, he was the dad, Joey reminded himself. He decided to pick this moment not to budge._

_Craig had agreed, sighed, and clicked off the phone. "I have to go. Family."_

_He could do this. They were all used to functioning on their cocktail of pills. Sometimes Craig thought it made things easier; the words for an English essay flowed out of him because he didn't have that _

_self-doubt, he was relaxed enough to sleep at night, and the details of life softened. So he was surprised when they all questioned if he was okay to drive._

"_You'll be rolling pretty hard," Luke warned._

"_I just took it. It shouldn't hit me until later. Full stomach," Craig reasoned. He could do this, he had to. Pick up Angie and head home and figure something out from there. Hell, the kid would probably be great company while he was high._

Craig looked down to see if he was still holding Angela's hand and saw that he was clutching a shopping bag that contained a small pink shoe box. His other hand was empty.

"What?" he mumbled to himself and glanced around the department store. Craig had to steady himself for a moment and turned his head away from another shopper's curious gaze. He moved slowly through the aisles, trying to focus on locating Angie and less on how the details of clothing, toys, and electronics. It was swallowing him.

"Angie!" Craig called out down the Barbie aisle. He felt something swell inside him. She was here, wasn't she? Craig pressed his fingertips to his forehead. Remember. Of course she was, Craig reassured himself and tried to ignore the fact that this all seemed like a dream. It felt that way because of the painkillers, he reminded himself, and being high on them always put him in a sort of daydream. He was in control here. Craig looked down at his side and saw that both hands were empty. That reminded him of the task at hand.

"Angie!" Craig tried again, this time in the aisle with the stuffed animals. If she wasn't in the toy section where would she be? "What did I do?"

Cell phone, cell phone, Craig reminded himself as he patted over his jean pockets. He felt his car keys through the denim. No way he was driving home. But he couldn't even focus on that issue right now, he needed to find Angie and he didn't think he could even handle that one. He pulled the phone out of his pocket and leaned up against a shelf of bath towels. Craig scrolled through the list of contacts and debated on each one. As he tapped on the phone keys, Craig realized that his fingers felt like they were soft and boneless. Like they were made of blood, he heard in his head, and his palms began to sweat.

Calling Sean Cameron, the cell phone screen said and Craig brought the phone up to his ear. The party was probably heating up so they were out. This was his best bet. Sean would call him a dumb ass but he'd bail him out like he had before. Craig was surprised to hear a female voice and it took him a moment to recognize it.

"Ellie?" Craig questioned after a moment. "Um, can you put Sean on."

"Hey, Craig. Sean's not here."

"Oh," Craig sighed.

"Are you okay? You sound different."

"Um. Can you meet me here at the shopping mall close to the school. I can't find Angie."

"Why don't you just go to customer service and have her paged?" Ellie questioned, not paying much attention and even continued scribbling down an answer to a math question.

"What if there's a security guard there? People are already looking at me weird. They know."

"Know what? Are you drunk or something? How could you drink and drive with Angie in the car?!" Ellie couldn't help but accuse and pushed away her school textbook. There was something familiar in her friend's voice. That distant tone, his words slightly slurred and sounding like he wasn't sure where they were coming from.

"I uh, took some pills earlier. I didn't know it'd hit me this soon. I swear I was fine earlier."

" I'll be right there. Where are you at right now exactly? Stay right there.," Ellie instructed and listened to her friend describe his location.

* * *

A security guard's gaze hesitated on them and Ellie began to usher Craig towards a long corridor in the back of the mall. She stopped him near the bathrooms and faced him, taking in his appearance. His hair was disheveled, like he had been pulling at it in some effort to reach for thoughts he couldn't remember in this intoxicated state. Craig's eyes were probably the biggest sign; his pupils were dark and his eyelids heavy. So she instructed, "Go wait in the car while I find Angie."

"Like I can remember where I parked."

Ellie sighed. It was like taking care of two kids. She hadn't expected to be in a situation like this so soon since moving out of her mother's and in with Sean. Both teens were treating the situation as a sort of temporary fix, fearing that everything could change at any moment. She didn't want it to. Things felt safe for the first time in quite a while. Dealing with her high friend was reminding her of things she wanted to forget just for a little while, long enough so she could move that CD case full of cutting supplies further from her. It was still so fresh: checking to make sure her mother hadn't choked on her vomit after she drank herself to sleep, the lies she'd tell over the phone to her father who was overseas again, and the pot of spaghetti left to set fire on the stove.

"It's fine right? It'll be fine right?" Craig whispered, clutching Ellie's forearms with his clammy palms.

"Yeah. Yeah, it'll be fine. Look, can you find your way to the food court? Just head over there, sit down at a table, and try to blend in."

"I think I can do that," Craig agreed. He thought he might even be able to handle ordering some fast food. As he maneuvered through the crowd he laughed out loud at the memory of ending up at some taco joint and Luke was so high the only thing he could read on the menu, or speak, was the word nachos. Small, medium, large, cheese sauce, onions, and ground beef failed to register with his stoner buddy.

It was amazing how easy it was to forget about the situation with lost sister Angela. Now he had an enchilada, occasionally nibbling on it and enjoying the crowd. It wasn't as easy as watching television but entertaining enough. They were strangers like the characters on TV and in a way, they didn't exist. So he was surprised when he saw his redheaded friend and little sister moving towards him.

"Angie," Craig sighed in relief and bent down to give her a quick hug, avoiding the ice cream cone.

"Where did you go?" Angie whined. Craig saw that her eyes were red.

"She said you weren't paying attention to her so she went to hide in a clothes rack in the junior's section, to play a trick on you. When she went back to the toy section, you weren't there so she got scared," Ellie explained.

"You left me," Angie whined.

It came over him slowly and softly. He wasn't even sure what it was at first. Then it came to him. He used to look that sad when his parents did the weekend swap of Craig. He wondered if he ever said that to his mother. That blunt and obvious; she left him. She left him with his dad and that's why all this had happened. His skin crawled a little and he itched at his arms. Suddenly, he feared being sober and would gladly pop another pill if he had a chance.

"I didn't mean to," Craig tried to explain to his younger sister. Then he warned, "Don't ever wander away like that again."

He saw Angie nod, still looking a bit tearful so he scoped her up into her arms. Craig didn't notice that Ellie reached out as if she was expecting him to lose his grip on the child like the tabloid photos of Britney Spears nearly dropping her kid that were splashed all over the internet and newsstands.

"So, lost child and lost sneakers returned," Ellie declared and held up the department store shopping bag. "Those were at lost and found."

"It all worked out!" Craig stated with a smile and set Angie on her feet. "Can I buy you a new toy, kid?"

Ellie couldn't help but cautiously observe them and it wasn't because she thought he'd stumble into a small boutique of sunglasses or trip over a kid. She saw something in them and something from Craig's past. She knew, they all pretty much knew, where Craig's new camera lens came from in grade nine and of course there was Albert's newest apology that came in the form of a check for 10 grand.

"One of the Barbies that comes with a dog?" Angie happily suggested.

"For you, absolutely," Craig replied, all smiles.

"Guys, I think we better head home. Maybe we can all play a board game? What was it that you were telling me about?" Ellie encouraged. She watched as Angie chewed on a fingernail, thinking it over.

"Okay!" Angie decided, feeling like she was special enough to hang with her older brother's friends.

"Yeah. Yeah, you are probably right," Craig agreed. "But I'm totally surprising you with Pet Doctor Barbie."

Craig didn't meet Ellie's gaze until he said that and saw that she forced a small smile back. She could see how eager he was, silently saying _so this makes up for it, right?_

* * *

"Ellie?" Sean called out, disappointed by the empty living room. She said she'd be here when he got back and that reassurance felt like some big moment. Like she was sure she'd stay. He could tell Ellie was still drained from her mother's drinking habit. But then her eyes sparkled and when he'd hopefully questioned her plans for the night she had reassured him that she would be there. There, with him.

Her school textbooks and some weird dark novel was still on the beat up coffee table and a few duffle bags with her clothes by the couch. Sean tried not to notice Ellie was slow to unpack. She was coming back, he reassured himself. He tried not to seem too eager to suggest that it was a solution (_move in...with someone who loves you_). He knew she probably wasn't thinking about long term, being listed on a lease and things like that. He wanted her there…maybe permanently, he silently hoped and it almost turned into a prayer. She didn't think he saw and he couldn't be sure what scars were fresh. What could he do other than offer her a place where she could feel safe?

His stomach rumbled and he realized he should find something to scrounge up for dinner. Sean predicted it might be bologna again and softly smiled at the memory of Ellie encouraging a casserole and they could eat on it for a week. He still couldn't believe she was here. They were still kind of tiptoeing around each other. He slept on the couch while she had the bed and he still didn't think he saw what she slept in at night. He wondered what it would be like in a few months. He'd shovel the sidewalk in the winter and just might leave her the last piece of chocolate cake. It was the subtle things that he thought would make him the happiest; seeing her with bed head in the morning because she'd slept nearby and the strange intimacy of knowing that she was showering in the same tub as him…naked.

Sean shook off the thoughts, embarrassed by how love struck they seemed to be. It was then that he saw the piece of paper taped over a collage of restaurant take out menus and club venue flyers on the refrigerator door. _"SEAN" _was scrawled in large letters and he immediately grew concerned.

"_Something is up with Craig. Picking him and Angie up at the mall. Meet me at his place?"_

* * *

"Yes! Mac and cheese. I was thinking I'd end up eating sandwiches again," Sean greeted as he entered the Jeremiah's kitchen. "So what's up?"

Ellie emptied the cheese packet into the kettle and gave the mixture a few frantic stirs. She looked up at Sean' face and saw that concern filled it now. "Craig's high. I mean, really out of it. He lost Angie at the mall. I couldn't let him drive her home."

"Is it really that bad?" Sean questioned, hoping in a sort of sick way that Ellie had simply become exasperated with seeing her mother wasted all the time and was reacting to that more than whatever was happening with his buddy Craig.

"I've never seen him like that," Ellie replied, in a quieter tone as she watched Angela prance into the kitchen.

"I'm starving," she whined dramatically and then her demeanor shifted. "We're all going to play Mall Madness right?"

"That sounds like a girl's game. I'm going to go hang with Craig," Sean replied and gave Ellie a lingering look and he hoped she read it as _don't worry, I can handle this._

Upstairs was dark and Sean followed the sound of the television to Craig's room.

"Craig?" Sean questioned as he pushed open the partially ajar bedroom door. It took him a moment to adjust to the colors that splashed up against the wall as the scenes on the TV changed. He saw him on the bed, curled up on his side and gaze on the TV set. Craig didn't even move and for a moment, Sean feared the worst.

"You alright?" He questioned again, seeing that his friend's eyes were open. Glazed over, but open.

"Hey. Hey, man," Craig greeted and pulled himself up into a seated position. "I have no idea what's on TV, but it's amazing."

Sean sat down at the foot of the bed and after a quick glance at the screen, shifted his gaze back to Craig.

"Joey's not home yet, is he?" Craig asked, suddenly more aware of where he was. Not that he didn't know. It was odd, pleasant, but still odd that he knew where he was but just didn't care all that much. Things just were.

"Not yet. Ellie's downstairs with Angie.," Sean explained and watched Craig's gaze shift over from his face and stayed on the TV screen. He didn't hardly blink and Sean heard the moment he decided to swallow. Was it that much work to function on whatever this guy was on, he wondered.

"What's it like?" Sean finally asked, wanting to break the silence.

"I like myself right now. I don't usually…like myself."

"I guess that makes sense. But what does it feel like?"

"Just really calm, I guess," Craig replied and closed his eyes. The sounds of the television show faded until it was almost like background noise in his head. He wasn't used to it being so quiet; usually his thoughts ran at 95 miles per hour. You'd think that since his head was so empty the television characters voices would be louder, he silently wondered. At least he thought he was silently wondering it. The voice in his head sounded strange, like the one he used when he spoke. When he opened his eyes, something was off. It took him a moment to realize what it was.

"I'm going to be sick," he declared and was surprised by how quickly he moved to the bathroom.

Sean watched Craig crumple down to the floor beside the toilet and began to vomit. He looked away, remembering incidents with his parents. Why would someone do this to themselves? Sean looked back and saw that Craig was staring up at him, apparently having a semi-lucid moment.

"I uh, Ang and I were at the food court earlier," Craig paused and ran a hand over his face. "The stories about that Mexican fast food joint are true."

He looked away when he saw Sean's face fade into a look of disbelief. "Don't worry, it's normal. Sometimes they make you nauseous," Craig quietly explained. He stayed there on the floor, enjoying the coolness of the tiles. Sean was standing above him like he was hovering in a parental sort of way. "I'm fine," Craig reassured his watchful friend.

"Come on, let's just have you sleep it off," Sean encouraged and pulled Craig to his feet. He watched as his friend leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. "Dizzy," he mumbled and chose the only word that seemed appropriate, enjoying the numbness that was washing over him like a wave. He liked how it pounded into his head; heavy, black, and nothing.

"Shit, what are you on?" Sean mumbled to himself and began to pat Craig down, an arm under him and half holding him up as he was slouched some against the wall. He found the plastic baggie in Craig's right pocket.

"What is this?" Sean asked as he removed a pill from a plastic baggie and looked it over.

"I'm not sure."

"I hope you are lying to me because if you are that desperate for a high that you are popping anything you can get your hands on, you have a problem."

Craig slightly flinched at that comment but then the emotion was gone. "I think I'm just going to chill for awhile," he said and sunk back down to the bathroom rug. He closed his eyes and felt his head drop some, then he woke himself back up and saw Sean's intent gaze.

"You are nodding off like a junkie," he observed. He'd seen Craig high before, mellow, a little euphoric at times, and clumsy. There had been a few times when he was obviously rolling harder than usual, but it wasn't like this.

"Uh, I took one on an empty stomach and it hit me hard, really hard."

"Just one?" Sean questioned, hopeful and got a nod in response. He sighed when he saw Craig then shake his head. He sat down beside Craig and studied him, counting out his breaths. His friend was breathing slow, Sean observed, but that was to be expected when you take downers. Maybe he would be fine.

"Please don't tell Joey. I don't know what he'd do," Craig pleaded.

Sean looked away, his gaze unblinking as he silently deliberated what to do. "I'll make you a deal, you let me flush this," Sean suggested and held up the small baggie that contained a couple tablets. "And I won't tell Joey."

"I can return them. If I don't use something I can get my money back."

Sean shook his head. "I'm not debating this with you. I'll flush them, keep my mouth shut when it comes to Joey, and you promise you won't mess around with whatever this shit is again."

He told himself he was high enough not to care. "Deal," Craig agreed and watched as Sean tossed the tablets into the toilet bowl and flushed them away.

* * *

"Sean?" Joey greeted out of surprise.

"Hi," Sean responded and stood up from the board game on the floor. "Uh, Craig got sick so I popped over to help out."

"He's sick?" Joey said and struggled with the grocery bags in his arms. Sean quickly took one and set it down on the kitchen counter. "Thanks."

"No problem. But uh, yeah. He came down with something so I said I'd look after Angie," Sean explained and watched as Angie entered the kitchen.

"Daddy!" she greeted and went in for the usual hug she got when her father returned home from work. Then she fixed her attention on the grocery bags. "You got the good kind of Oreos this time right?" She asked and began to dig around, shuffling cereal boxes and vegetables.

"What is it with my kids and name brand Oreos? They have got to be the same as store brand," Joey questioned to himself.

"I don't even eat store brand Oreos and I'll eat anything that has chocolate in it," Sean said, siding with Craig's little sister. Sean handed a carton of orange juice to Joey to put in the refrigerator and watched as he moved around, putting away various groceries.

"Oreos!" Angie spied as soon as her father pulled out the familiar package.

"Just two," Joey caved. He paused for a moment, "You haven't brushed your teeth yet have you? If you have you have to do them again."

"I haven't!"

"Okay," Joey agreed, handing them over and then tucking the package in a cupboard. "So Craig came down with a bug? I'll go check on him."

Sean hesitated for a moment and then decided to follow. The last time he'd popped into Craig's room, the guy seemed like he was sobering up. He wasn't focused, but there wasn't anymore nodding off like what he'd seen on TV with heroin addicts. Earlier he'd whispered to Ellie that they were in the clear. She looked relieved but then it faded into looking worn down and she declared that she should head home. He couldn't help but question which home she meant and his girlfriend verified his…their…home. Soon he'd be there soon. Craig just had to do his part.

"Craig? Are you awake?" Joey questioned.

"You feeling better? I told Joey you came down with something so I babysat," Sean was sure to state.

"Yeah. Thanks for that," Craig caught on and responded as he sat up in bed.

"You do look flushed and are warm," Joey remarked as he looked over his stepson. Craig barely felt his stepfather's hand on his forehead.

Sean watched as Craig's eyes glazed over, looking like he was lost in a daydream. He moved closer a few steps in an attempt to get his friend to look at him. "Wake up," he silently mouthed to his friend and saw some nervousness seep back into his expression.

"I think I'm getting a cold. I took some cough medicine and it just knocked me out," Craig explained.

"How about you go to bed early tonight? No more TV," Joey decided in a dad fashion. "I'll check on you later."

Sean exited Craig's bedroom first and felt unsettled, unsure. He watched as Joey closed Craig's bedroom door, lingering a few seconds before he started to follow Joey down the stairs. If Craig had messed up and taken too much, they would have known by now right? And he had flushed what pills Craig had left over. He took care of the situation. Joey didn't have to know.

"Had a good time with you tonight, kid," Sean said to Angie and ruffled her hair before reaching for his coat. "I'll see you soon."

"Maybe next time you come over you can teach me a card game. A game that you play with your friends," Angie encouraged, leaning over the back of the couch and smiling at her brother's good looking friend.

"Euchre? Maybe poker?" Sean asked, amused ,and then turned when he heard Joey say his name.

"You don't have to do that. Freebie babysitting job," Sean quickly said as he watched Joey pull out his wallet. "Besides, I ate like half your fridge anyway."

"Isn't that what happens on a regular basis?" Joey joked.

Sean smirked and then it faded,. He felt a little sick to his stomach. Maybe this wasn't the right thing to do. Craig couldn't keep his story straight and at the time he assumed the guy was just out of it, but now he was starting to think it was possible he was lying to make the situation look better than it was. He and his friends should do something, he just wasn't sure what.

* * *

"I was paged," Craig informed the school secretary. He wasn't sure what this was about. School was about to let out so maybe Joey had left him a message, wanting him to play chauffeur to Angela today. He couldn't remember what after school activity the kid was doing on Mondays. Was it ballet?

"Ms. Sauvé requested to see you. About your internship," the secretary responded after flipping through several stacks of papers.

"Oh!" Craig declared, relieved. So this would be a quick and easy visit. In and out of her office, Craig reassured himself. He felt a little awkward entering the familiar office after his many sessions with her and his recent decision a month or so ago to quit therapy. "Hi. You wanted to see me about my internship? Ash said she got hers this morning. She's with some record company, I guess. I knew she'd land it with her grades. Tell me I'm not shadowing Shelia the caf lady."

The psychologist smiled at him. "Nope. You were chosen for an internship with a local photographer. He's pretty well known. I think you will enjoy it."

Craig looked over the sheets of paper being handed to him. "Oh wow. That's actually really awesome. I haven't gotten to hang around the darkroom as often as I'd like this year. Am I going to get to like…assist? Working side by side making prints? Setting up shows? I'd be happy adjusting lights," Craig rambled on, excited.

"I'm sure you'll find all that out when you meet him. I think it will be a valuable experience for you."

"Yeah, totally. Well thanks for the good news," Craig said and eyed the door.

"How are your classes going so far?"

"Not too bad. I'm nervous about getting my science test back," he admitted. Craig was surprised by how hard the painkillers had hit him and knocked him down for almost the whole weekend. Joey was convinced by the whole he caught a bug scenario once he saw how Craig was late to climb out of bed, even for a weekend, and decided to lounge on the couch on Saturday night. He spent most of the time recovering and could care less about studying.

"You are doing exceptionally well in your English and artistic related courses, I noticed."

Craig felt uneasy hearing that; was she keeping an eye on him? Sometimes he worried what was said in the teacher's lounge. Especially when he returned back to school after things like his father's death. "Yeah. I like those classes. I mean, if you can't get an A in art, you shouldn't be allowed to leave the house without adult supervision."

"How are things outside of school?"

"Good!"

"Some of your friends are concerned about you," Ms. Sauvé said and carefully watched Craig's face.

"What? Concerned about what?"

"Are you surprised by this?"

"What did they say?"

"Anything you say to me is confidential. I won't have to inform authorities unless if you make threats to harm yourself or another person," She reminded, hoping it would be a push.

He almost wanted to say it. He called it partying. But there was the times it wasn't and he knew what people thought about folks who popped pills and nearly lost their kid sister in a mall or got drunk in their closet before school. He hated it in him too sometimes. And there was only one way to dull that.

"I know. Um, but I'm okay. I don't know who would say that I'm not. Who said that?"

"I can't break that confidentiality, Craig."

"Yeah, okay," Craig said and blankly stared at the wall as he tried to wrap his head around this. "It's not a big deal, I guess. I mean they are always thinking that I'm a mess because of my dad or whatever. So I'm sure that's it. But I'm doing fine now."

"Okay. But if you ever feel like you aren't, you are welcome to stop by anytime."

"I know. Well, thanks for the news about my internship. I'm excited for it," Craig declared with a smile and started for the door now. "I'll see you around school."

He was sure she said goodbye but he didn't hear it. The blood was pounding in his ears and he was sure his face was turning red with anger. He could barely focus enough to stuff his textbooks into his backpack. He slammed his locker shut with a satisfying clang and went to look for them, feeling like he was hunting someone down. It had to be Ashley, Sean, or Ellie. It only made sense. Who else would make a big deal over this? Who else cared? He zoomed in on them sitting outside on campus.

"Who was it?" Craig demanded as soon as he approached his friends at the picnic table. "Who told her?"

Craig watched as they refused to answer. His angry gaze moved over each of them and he watched as they kept their head down, not even glancing at each other.

"You just found out about your music industry internship, right?" Craig said to Ashley. "That just happened. Ms. Sauvé pulled you out of homeroom. You went to her office and just casually brought me up, didn't you? How could you do that to me?"

"And you told me that you pop in to talk to her…you brought me up, didn't you?" Craig claimed of Ellie. He barely paused between accusations, not letting them get in a few words to explain.

"You promised me that you wouldn't tell," Craig angrily stated, his eyes burning into his friend Sean. "You told Ashley about what happened. Or did you?"

Sean watched as Ellie started snapping her rubber bracelets. He had to say something now. "I said I wouldn't rat you out to Joey. But I thought about it. And yeah, you are our friend, we are going to talk about it. You were out of it."

"Screw you. I would never do that to you. Like if it was something that could jeopardize your student welfare. And you ratted me out."

"Are you in trouble for anything?"

Craig took a sharp breath and looked away. "No. We didn't get into it."

"So what's your problem?" Sean snapped back. The guy was afraid they'd make him stop, wasn't he?

"I just don't like how you are talking about me behind my back, to each other, to Sauvé of all people. And not to me."

"Who do you think we were waiting for, Craig?" Ashley finally spoke up, frustrated.

The anger melted away some and for a brief moment he felt ashamed of the scene he was making. He wouldn't let that give in; he didn't know how he'd react to dealing with the embarrassment. He let the anger flame up again. "You totally blindsided me. She said your friends are concerned. My God, did you all go in together?"

'It didn't happen like that at all."

"How did it happen then?" Craig said and noticed that he was almost yelling. He had to, he couldn't even hear. His heart was pounding and he was sure he couldn't breath, not around them. He was shaking his head now, unaware if they were even speaking to him. He turned quickly and began to stalk off, muttering "I can't be around you right now."

"That went well," Ellie dejectedly said.

* * *

Craig avoided his friends the next day in school. He let the past few days roll around in his head, kicking up different emotions. There was anger and he wanted to punish them for almost turning him in. He couldn't believe they didn't come to him first, ask him about what was going on, and instead headed to Sauvé. The whole thing made him jumpy, itchy on the inside as he tried not to think about TV show's on addiction. Shows where families and friends came together to remind you of how you are a mess and something that needed to be fixed.

Maybe he was that much of a mess. He was made up of this jumbled past, a past that had jagged edges and felt like it was cutting into him as he recalled it. Ashley, Sean, and Ellie didn't have that. Or if they did it wasn't like this. If they had any idea, they wouldn't wonder why sometimes he had to get away.

Then it would dip down into that loneliness that was always there. The void was just easier to fill sometimes, cushioned by substances or the realization that for once things were normal. He didn't want to lose them like he lost everyone else. And maybe, a soft voice whispered in his head, Craig knew that he had to do damage control so there wasn't anymore 'concern.' He wasn't crashing Sean and Ellie's housewarming party by any means. He didn't know if the invitation was still open so he waited, becoming more and more fashionably late as he debated trying to mend bridges or saying screw it and digging into the stash in his room.

Craig was surprised to be greeted by the sight of a few of Sean and Jay's shop class crew slamming car doors and the sound of engines starting. They were leaving? Already? Inside, he was surprised by the lack of music and smaller crowd.

"Oh I cannot deal with anymore drama today," Sean snapped at the sight of Craig.

"Okay. I deserved that. I freaked out. I'm sorry," Craig said and glanced over their faces. Sean would meet his gaze now but Ashley was still avoiding looking him in the eye. "Where's Ellie? I wanted to apologize. I am so sorry for putting you guys through that, especially her when she's been dealing with her mom's drinking."

"She's not here. Mrs. Nash showed up, made a scene, and took her home."

Craig stared at the floor. "Can I stop by maybe? Apologize?"

"Why are you asking me for permission? I'm not her father," Sean snapped.

"Yeah, I don't know why I said that," Craig quickly replied, flustered. It made sense at the time, this was his best friend and it was his girlfriend. He sensed he was protective over her lately. Then he saw Sean's expression soften some.

"I don't know if now is a good time. I have a feeling they are having it out. I don't know what's going to happen, but I think it should be between El and her mom," Sean replied, kinder now.

"It was all just terrible timing." He didn't know else to explain it. He was aware of Mrs. Nash's drinking problem and the toll it took on Ellie, even though it was something that was sort of left unsaid in the group unless if something had just happened. It was rare for Ellie to break down and actually talk about it though. That was how Nash was. That was how they handled a lot of the personal confessions that would happen late at night. They let them happen and then let it go, always seeing more of them than their weird family situations. He couldn't help but wonder why they weren't letting this go.

"Shit. Look, I am so sorry. I know her mom's been getting worse and she shouldn't have had to deal with me like that. You probably saw your parents in me too," Craig said and blushed some. There was this nagging, though; he wished he could be high for this. At the time of being incredibly numb and off in his oxy head space, he didn't care what he looked like in front of Sean or Ellie. Now it sort of shamed him a little. It was never fun to be around sober people who would remember it the next day.

Sean shrugged in response. "You might want to watch what you are doing."

He wanted to say that he knew what he was doing. Instead Craig said "I promise I'm going to make it up to you guys."

"There's just one thing you have to do," Ashley said, finally looking him in the eye and got a huge smile back in return.

"What's that? Consider it done."

"Stop with the pills. And lay off the drinking."

Craig's breath caught in his throat. They didn't know what it was like, how things got too fast and he had to slow them down. Or how sometimes he needed something to bring him up a few notches and mellow him out, just so he could walk around like a normal human being. And who were they to say when their summers were frequently tainted with alcohol?

"You lost your kid sister in a mall because you were high," Sean encouraged.

"I never meant to hurt anyone. I swear I didn't mean for any of that to end up that way. I didn't plan…to baby sit her like that. There's never a plan, really."

"How often is it going on? Do you get that high often?"

"I've never taken that much before. No. No! I don't do it that often," Craig replied with a smile and noticed how carefully Ashley was watching him. Her eyes would move over his fidgeting hands and face, lingering on his eyes like she was searching for something. "Just please don't be mad at me."

"We're not mad. But come on, if you can stop, stop. Show that you can."

Craig laughed a little nervously. It was like a test? Did he have to go a certain while to prove he passed? Plan it cool, he urged himself, show them that it's not a big deal. "Okay. If that's what you guys want. I'll stop because that's what you want."


	26. Sixteen Is Suicide

**26. Sixteen is Suicide**

"I thought we were going to get together after school yesterday," Craig greeted Sean, pulling the ear buds out of his ears and clicking off his mp3 player. He couldn't help but feel a little bit nervous. Things had been feeling different ever since Sean saved his butt and didn't rat him out to Joey about the Oxy. He couldn't explain it. His buddy seemed more reserved; Craig worried that he was waiting for him to slip up and use. But he hadn't. Well not really. Not that Sean knew. Sometimes he wasn't sure who was to blame. There was that 'homework' he was holed up in his room when in fact he had just popped a few generic muscle relaxers and music videos were better company. And Sean was the one who made sure to make sure to state that he would be hanging with Jay and company at a party, indicating Craig wasn't entirely welcome.

"Uh yeah, I missed some afternoon classes," Sean explained, still not comfortable at Degrassi after the school shooting, his visit to Wasaga, and his defeated return home. That was what it was he had realized. It was home. Shitty at the moment, but home.

"I am never going to get used to this increase in security. Soon we are going to have guards with those drug sniffing dogs roaming the halls," Craig sighed.

"Yeah it's weird around here," Sean replied and they both recalled their first conversation when he got back.

"_You are like a ghost," Craig observed of Sean, surprised by his presence at Degrassi._

"_Excuse me?"_

"_You keep disappearing and reappearing. Good to see you around," Craig replied, dropping bait to see if Sean would address how he wound up in Wasaga Beach after the shooting. His mouth fell open when he had heard the second hand news that his best friend was staying there. _

"_Uh yeah…you want to hang out? Sean offered, hoping he could give an explanation of some sort._

_Craig shrugged. There was a part of him that was hard and didn't want to budge. "I think I've got like ten minutes before I have to take off."_

"_Okay, let's head outside. I'm so over this school for today," Sean sighed. He'd never been a fan of school before and the shooting sure as hell didn't make it easier to be there. He was trying to keep up the hero persona but there was times he couldn't breathe and all he wanted was to get out. He took the detentions for cutting school for awhile, reassuring Mr. Simpson and Mr. Eyl that he was fine._

"_My head's been kind of a mess lately," Sean stated as they brushed snow off a picnic table and sat down._

"_Well that's kinda understandable," Craig said with a smile, feeling slightly warmer towards his friend. The last time Sean had threatened to move, Craig gave him the cold shoulder as well. "I mean I was a mess after my Dad's…suicide. And I wasn't even in the room."_

"_Yeah, but I killed someone Craig. In the place we come to everyday."_

"_I know. I know! I'm just saying…dude, I don't know what to say. I'm sorry that happened to you but it's not your fault."_

_Sean stared down at the ground. It was like over the past few weeks he had forgotten how to talk to people. Not that he was much good at that to begin with. So they sat there, quiet. Craig inhaled sharply, enjoying the cold winter air. It froze his throat some and he decided that was the reason why he couldn't find any words to say to console his friend. _

"_Is the school helping you out any?" Craig finally asked. Ten minutes had since expired but he didn't leave._

"_Yeah. I didn't want the help though. I just wanted to pretend everything never happened. But I guess there's some stuff you can't will away. So finally I got tired of it and said, you know, maybe I'm not okay with it. They are letting me go half days sometimes…but I have to see Sauvé."_

"_So that's why I don't see you around sometimes."_

_Sean didn't know why he hesitated on telling Craig this, worrying that he and everyone else would think he was weak. "Sauvé asks about you. I was all aren't we supposed to be talking about me?"_

_Craig rolled his eyes at the mention of the therapist. Then he admitted, "I was kind of pissed you didn't call me after you left for Wasaga."_

"_I just wanted it all to go away, everything that reminded me of Degrassi. I spent a weekend and then some at my parent's. I was going to enroll for school there and everything. I really thought it would fix things. The change of scenery or whatever it was my mother called it…that was what I needed. But it was just geography, man. Everything was still there. Except…for you guys. So I came back."_

_Craig shook his head, unable to say how much he admired that. "That's unbelievable. I think I know what you are saying though. I think you did the right thing. Ellie…"_

"_I didn't do it to take care of her. That's what she thinks. Mixed signals totally when it comes to that. But it's not about that…entirely. I mean she was damn pissed about the rent. The idea of sticking her with that was out of left field. I know it was things we couldn't control entirely…I'm trying to control them. Things are shaky. I don't know how to explain them."_

"_Things aren't the same, are they? I mean I feel like that with everything. Home, school, Ash, you."_

_Sean shrugged, aware of the change all around them. It wasn't just the increase of security or the cynical gleam in the girls' eyes. It was the lingering reminder that things could be yanked out from under them at any moment._

* * *

Craig couldn't get his foot to stop bouncing. "It's so depressing around here lately. I mean I know why…and I'm sorry it happened. But it's been over a month. We should actually just start living again," Craig couldn't help but comment. He watched Sean shoot him a look; it was of the what the hell variety and he was pretty familiar with it. So he looked down and remembered his lunch. He hastily took a bite of pizza and then continued.

"I mean, the band is basically broken up because of Jimmy. It's like time has just stopped and we're all sitting around remembering every single bad thing that has ever happened. I mean, did you see how Sauvé looked at me in those weird grieving group therapy things right after the suicide…I mean shooting…happened?" Craig continued.

"I wish things would get back to normal too," Sean chose to reply. Craig had always been a bit of rambler, his thoughts relating in a kind of obscure way. If Craig's thought pattern were a game of connect the dots, sometimes they would never figure out the intended image. His friend swore he had been sober for the past few months but it was moments like this were he had to wonder.

"Things should be how they were before. You know what we need…a party!"

"I thought…" Ashley started.

"Oh you aren't still hung up on that are you?" Craig interrupted. "I've been clean for how long now? Even during that one weekend when Sean and Jay drank basically nothing but beer. Joey is out of town this weekend. I think we should make this happen!"

Ashley shook her head and smiled softly in disbelief. "There's no way you can pull that off."

"I will make it happen," Craig declared as he pushed away his barely touched lunch, reached for his book bag, and pulled out a notebook. "Do we want a party bowl or a keg? There should be a theme! Alice in Wonderland?"

"No hard drugs," Ashley said, imagining strobe lights and mushrooms, and meant for it to sound like a question but found that she ended up sounding almost motherly.

"No hard drugs," Craig was quick to agree. "A mad tea party would be so awesome. Um, maybe a decade party? The 20's…60's. Devils and angels. Halloween! I personally think each month should have a Halloween celebration."

Craig was writing down ideas frantically, searching for one that felt right. "It should be something about how we are still here, how life is meant to be celebrated because it's so short. Life after death. Dead Rock stars! Can you imagine the costumes?"

"There was a…" Ellie said and then trailed off, shooting a look at Sean. "Jimmy is in the hospital. It's kind of in poor taste."

Craig shrugged. "I'm just tired of being sad…or seeing everyone so sad. We didn't die. We're still here. And that's something to be thankful for, really. Cause any day…any day one of us could be gone."

"No, Craig. Don't think of it like that," Ashley encouraged.

"Really guys, I'm not doing this to be morbid. Life is meant to be lived. Think of it as a celebration! Sixteen is suicide!" Craig decided suddenly. He saw his girlfriend go pale and Ellie had finished shredding her napkin. "It's a metaphor! Think about all the changes that have happened lately. It's an end, but it's really the beginning. We survived. We're here and we should be living life to the fullest."

"You are out of your mind. But a party might be a good way to get rid of some of the tension around here," Sean decided, knowing that once Craig got an idea in his head it was pretty much a done deal.

"Saturday night. It'll be epic. You know Ash, Joey is away Friday too. He and Caitlin are doing some let's rekindle the romance thing at some bed and breakfast. Angie is at Grandma Jeremiah's. I'll make you dinner, red wine, candlelight…"

"Okay, my appetite is gone," Sean declared after hearing Craig give out a few more intimate details. Sean stood up and crumpled the empty brown bag that had a few remains of his lunch. "Don't want to know anymore. See ya later."

"Best to let you lovebirds be," Ellie agreed, her voice familiarly sarcastic. Ashley was blushing a little, she noticed.

"Friday night it can just be us. We can finally be together for the whole night. We'll go shopping after school for party supplies and then we'll lock ourselves in at Joey's. It'll be like we're actually living together. I'll make you a huge dinner and breakfast too. There's no reason for you to go home," Craig continued on.

"I didn't know you could cook," Ashley said, amused but a little overwhelmed. Ever since her father's wedding, Craig had been a little on the intense side. There was roses delivered several days after the ceremony, prompting her mother to question the seriousness of her relationship with Craig. At the wedding reception, Craig couldn't help but ask what she wanted for her own wedding and speculated on their own day. Kate had overheard and Ashley swore that her mother's gaze didn't leave them all night. We're just dating, Ashley had reassured her mother, it's not like we're going to run off together. She could only explain her boyfriends interest in marriage as he wanted stability and marriage would mean that someone would always be there for him.

* * *

Ashley followed him through text messages. First he was at the bank. It arrived soon after she was lying to her mother about spending the night at Paige's. She felt tired while replying to it, "What r u doing there?" She should have known. "Buying supplies" came the next message, this time from a liquor store parking lot. She actually clicked the phone off for a good fifteen minutes after that and debated on what to do. Something wasn't right. They felt that but lately everything felt that way. She thought about the account Craig and Joey had made there; she heard about the details in some late night conversation. It was awkward, Craig had said, meeting with the accountant and discussing what to do with the lump of money Craig had gotten for his birthday. There was a little debate between them all. Very two against one Craig felt, but at the end of the day it all went into a checking account. It was there and he used it. Sometimes Ashley thought he wanted to spend it just so it would go away. The idea of him spending it on "supplies" for the party spooked her a little. How far away did he want to go? And with that she clicked on her phone and received another text "Home soon. Stopping off to visit Dad."

She sat on the edge of her bed and stared off, wondering if by now they were too far into the weekend for her to fix anything. There had been moments where she could have. Dinner at Joey's a few nights before where Craig had listened to Joey discuss his weekend plans over the macaroni and cheese. She saw how he avoided his stepfather's gaze and kept it focused on his fork. She almost said something then but swallowed her words and decided it wasn't the time or place.

Craig left plenty of opportunities for them to talk it. There was the party planning. _In art class, when Craig alternated between ducking into the darkroom to make a few prints and working on a flyer advertising the party at his place on Saturday night. The teacher had to finally tell him to sit down and focus as he was zipping around so much. So he'd taken his seat next to her and frantically worked at the flyer for his party; she could hear him tearing up photos and scribbling with charcoal pencils. Zine art, he had told the teacher and Ashley could have sworn in the mishmash of pictures was a black and white photograph of his mother's grave. He waited until the last minute to scrawl the name of the party and it's details on it with a sharpie. _

"_What do you think?" Craig had questioned after class, handing over the flyer. _

_Ashley didn't reply and continued to walk down the school corridor. She hated the title and theme Craig chose for the party. Then finally she replied "I like the texture of the collage."_

"_It's not about suicide! Like I said before it's about things ending and something new beginning. It's about surviving," Craig rambled and waved his arms around as he bounced down the hallway._

"_Settle down," Sean encouraged after Craig bumped into him, sending their books flying. He bent down to gather them and listened as Craig continued talking._

"_There is such energy in the air! Can you feel that? I mean, in a way it's good when something awful happens because there's always this moment. This moment where you are aware that you are alive. It's like electric. The energy in the air."_

_It was then that he saw the empty teacher's lounge out of the corner of the eye. His gaze zoomed in on the photocopy machine. He grabbed the handmade flyer from Ashley. "Be my look out guys," Craig requested and ducked inside after surveying the hall for any faculty._

"_Was there vodka in his juice at lunch?" Sean asked, half sarcastic and half serious. He wasn't sure what else could explain his friend's rambling and excitement._

_Ashley remained quiet, watching Craig tap his fingers on the surface of the copy machine as it spit out copies. She motioned for him when she saw Mr. Simpson mulling around the doorway of the Media Immersion lab; she was the look out. Protecting him, even if all this didn't feel right._

She snapped out of her daze when she heard her phone ring. She felt a little dizzy and unreal as she clicked it on and got to her feet.

"Haven't left yet. I need to pack," Ashley explained when Ellie asked about her where abouts. "Craig is leaving me all these text messages. Like he wants me along or something. I don't know. The last one said he was visiting his dad. He's got to mean the cemetery. I should go. I think he needs me."

"Party still on for tomorrow night?" Ellie decided to ask.

Ashley stuffed some clothes in a bag, then went for her make up. "Yeah. I don't know if this is a good idea. But he's always been alright when it's all over, right?"

* * *

She stood farther back and watched him for awhile. He was at his father's grave site, standing quite a far distance from it. Craig would take a small step now and then, almost like he was nervous and afraid of this ending like a horror movie. She finally approached him when he was close enough to touch the tombstone.

"Hey Craig," Ashley greeted quietly.

"You scared me," Craig said and exhaled. "This isn't the place you expect to hear a voice."

"I got your texts. Thought you might need some support?"

"This is the first time I've been back. I mean, besides for the funeral. But I wasn't really all there for that really. Just going through the motions. I've been to so many funerals I practically have the process memorized," Craig said. "Anyway, I picked today because I didn't want to deal with Joey's reaction. I didn't want him to try to be there and act all fatherly with his hand on my shoulder like he did at my dad's funeral. That would be such an insult to my dad."

He was still doing _that_. All the therapy and explanations couldn't quiet it. He'd heard his father scream at him so many times about the damage Joey had caused to their family. And he liked having Joey there.

"Joey wants to be a fath…be there for you."

"Please. Don't say anything. I mean…" Craig struggled to explain as the guilt set in. Everything they…people like Sauvé and Robert…had been trying to do for him was starting to work. He did want Joey for a father. But that's not what his dad wanted. And here, even though he was dead and gone, Craig still wanted to make him happy and be on his side. Craig glanced over at his side. Ashley, how did she factor into all of this? "Thank you for being here but don't read anything into any of this. I don't need any explanations or reasons. They don't work."

"Alright. Got it." Now was when she climbed into the backseat of the conversation and listened to him talk. It weighed on her mind a little. She tried to say the right thing, do the right thing, all the while never knowing what that was.

"I think it was talking to Sean that got to me. He feels guilty. Makes sense though. Reminded me of how I always feel that. Sometimes I'm not even sure why. Sometimes I feel guilty for everything, like even something I said to my mom when I was eight years old," Craig said and lead her over to his mother's grave.

His girlfriend was moving softly beside him and he could have sworn for a moment that he forgot she was there. He was feeling badly for insisting that she remain quiet and not try to lift his burden. Now it was too quiet, the wind blowing through the trees and the occasional chirp from a bird. The bird threw him off some; didn't it know there was a winter storm moving through and it should take shelter?

"I don't feel her like I feel my dad around," Craig said of his mother. "Maybe it's because I got used to her being gone. I mean, like I had my parents separation and divorce to get used to that."

"She's at peace now," Ashley spoke up. Craig was doing that thing again. She could always feel that moment when he started to drift off some. It always made her uneasy when he did that. What if sometime he couldn't find his way back?

"It wasn't supposed to be like this!"

"I know. I know," Ashley replied and realized that Craig probably never was allowed to grieve over his parents split up.

"I mean I like it at Joey's. And I know why she liked it there. But…"

"I'm sure she would have wanted you there."

Craig started to shake his head, then stopped. It was like she didn't try at all. His brow creased as he struggled to process it all. He took a deep breath, exhaled, and bitterly stated, "So now you've met my mom and dad."

* * *

It was strange arriving home and knowing that Joey wasn't there and wouldn't be there till Sunday night. He almost called out just to make sure before entering the house, their arms full of paper bags. Now he knew why Sean and Ellie were so blessed out the first month they moved in together. They were just faking it for the weekend but he fully intended to exploit it.

"That was fun, shopping together like that. I've always wondered what it felt like, seeing like college aged couples shopping together," Ashley said with a smile and pulled cartons of food out of the shopping bags. She watched as Craig smiled and shook his head at that. "What? It's a girl thing?"

"I'm more excited about the food…and the wine," Craig said and produced a bottle of red wine.

"Are you really going to cook me dinner?"

"I'm going to make you a feast."

"What's on the menu?"

"Um, I know how to cook spaghetti and meatballs," Craig said, gesturing to a can of spaghetti sauce in the cupboard and then placed a loaf of frozen garlic bread in the freezer. Then he pulled half a dozen boxes of frozen appetizers from another bag, "That's what these are for. I know you love your appetizers."

"Mushroom puff pastries? Are you trying to seduce me?"

"Well if that doesn't work…" Craig started and removed the bottles of liquor from the final paper bag. He unrolled the paper bag each was wrapped in.

Ashley looked over each bottle, "Vodka, tequila, and whiskey? Got all your bases covered? I thought it was a 'bring your own beverage' party."

"Oh this is just for us; you, me, Sean, and Ellie. I mean if you want. I have a bottle of Alize in my room for you. Remember the end of year dance last year?"

"We can't drink all that in one night."

"Well we can try," Craig said with a smirk and saw her eyes fill with concern. "I'm kidding. Hey, when you've got a good liquor collection going, it's hard to stop."

"What am I going to do with you?" Ashley said and pulled him closer to her.

"I've been a good boy for months, I swear! I deserve this," Craig reasoned and went in for a kiss. Then he took her hand and they went for the stairs. "I think dinner is going to have to wait."

It was like it was there house, Craig thought to himself as they ran up the stairs. He didn't have to shut his bedroom door or worry that Angie would walk in, curious about their giggles. Ashley's shirt came off first and somewhere during that a stack of CD's on his dresser tumbled to the floor. They both didn't even acknowledge it, still in an embrace. It was the type of kissing where you didn't want to come up for air and when you did you wound up panting like you just ran a marathon.

The bottom of Craig's jeans were soaking wet from the melting snow and were sagging from the wet weight. All it took was Ashley to unbuckle his belt and they dropped to the floor. He had never seen her so frantic for sex. She was always so soft, sometimes hesitating to move in to kiss him; he would always be breathing heavily and she was just taking him in.

Now Ashley was so frantic, taking charge and guiding his hands where she wanted them. They ended up on the bed with such force that Craig had to question with a smile, "Ash?"

Ashley's hands were strong, moving over him like she was studying him and molding him like a sculptor does with clay. He wasn't used to her grabbing at him like it was the last time they were ever make love. Ashley was always soft, slow, and savory. He was used to the sensitive girl who moaned softly at the slightest touch. Sometimes he had to remind himself to slow down and be gentle, like he feared he would hurt her. The first time they had sex, he couldn't help but whisper in her ear if she was okay. She just sighed back and encouraged him on. He liked that about her though, everything touched her more and it wasn't just physical interaction either.

After a few moments her mouth found the way back to his. One fist had his hair (Ashley's left hand always found it's way to the back of his head when they embraced) and the other between his legs. He waited for the right moment to flip her underneath him and straddle her.

"You aren't ever going to want to leave me," Craig whispered after his tongue moved across her cheek to her earlobe. He held onto her wrists for a moment and watched her softly smile up at him. When he let go she pulled him close to her naked torso with a surprising amount of force.

Now and then Ashley would open her eyes and was assaulted by the brightness of the room. Here they were, Craig's bedroom during the last few hours of daylight with the bedroom door wide open. She was used to lovemaking in the dark; the back seat of Craig's car in some deserted parking lot or the wet concrete after a rain shower interrupted their night swimming at the pool Craig loved to break into those summer nights. She'd never seen him like this before. This clear. It wasn't just the scar on his back she had first noticed earlier; it was white and wormlike and snaked it's way down under his boxer shorts. It was that he was letting her in, letting her be there at the cemetery.

Ashley was here, she was really here; Craig was still in awe. He had those moments and wondered why someone would want him around. Especially someone like her. But she was here now. And no one knew. It was just them in this moment, the world outside drifting away.

* * *

They sat on the floor with Craig's CD collection piled around them, dressed only in their underwear and t-shirts. Neutral Milk Hotel played softly in the background and seemed to go with the slow decline in light as the sunset. Ashley realized it was one of those moments. Those moments where everything just seems to have stopped and you are just happy being someplace. The ones where you know you've had them before but can't quite place it.

"What was that song I heard the other day? I think I wrote it down. I wrote down some other songs for a play list too," Craig said and began to crawl over to his backpack on the floor by his desk. He returned with several notebooks in hand and began to page through them. Song lyrics, the math homework he had only finished half way before crying defeat, and a few notes he and Ashley passed back and forth during history.

"What's this?" Ashley asked as she looked over a notebook page. At first glance, she thought it might be his math homework. There was a jumble of numbers littered on the page, in all kinds of mathematical forms. There was a big black blob near the left side of the paper, almost looking like a giant spider with it's fierce pen markings. It was obvious that was when Craig was the most frustrated with the outcome, scribbling out a set of numbers. But there was text too. That almost made less sense even though she recognized some of the names.

"I was trying to figure out why Jimmy was shot," Craig explained with an embarrassed smile. Everyone expected him to freak out after the shooting. And he did, quietly and on his own. Because how could he explain that moment?

Ashley recognized the date of his father's death. Craig had even gone as far as to jot down the time his father had called and when he went over to his house. It looked like he was trying to map out that night's fateful events. She recognized the date of Julia Jeremiah's birth and death. Angela's birthday. His own. "What's the connection?"

"I thought the numbers might mean something, explain something to me and tell me why it all happened," Craig explained and watched her alternate her gaze between the paper and his face.

There was something about this guy. Most of the time his intensity drew her towards him. He brought her to parties and made her feel like they were the center of attention on the dance floor when a year or so earlier she would have preferred to be on the sidelines, too worried about what other people thought of her. He wasn't afraid to be silly with her and Angie in the toy section of a department store, all three jumping around on Spongebob Squarepants hopping balls until a clerk told them to stop. And he wasn't embarrassed by that either. He brought out a side of her and made her feel more alive.

But then there was moments like this. Where it wasn't that he had so much life in him and was spontaneous. It was something under the surface; dark, foreign, and threatening to take him away from her. So she had to try to pull him back.

"I know it sounds weird, insane even. But I swear it made sense at the time. I think I was just freaking out over seeing Jimmy on the ground like that after he was shot. I mean, when you think about how I decided on that day to take that hallway to chemistry. I never do that. And that's when I saw Jimmy. And then I started thinking about my dad. I thought there was a relation."

"What kind of relation would be between the two?"

"I don't know. But it has to mean something if they happened so close. I know it doesn't totally make sense but I think it has to do with me."

"No, it doesn't. I mean it has nothing to do with you."

"And then when you think about my mom. Man, I'm kind of like the grim reaper or something. Everything around me…" Craig didn't finish. "I think something is going to happen. Or it has to happen."

She kind of felt it too. But she wasn't sure what it was. She kind of assumed it was because of the school shooting and they were all still on edge and aware of their mortality. "Maybe this party is a bad idea. It's not too late to call it off."

"I invited like the whole school," Craig said with a smile. That was the first thing he'd been looking forward to in awhile.

"So we'll lock them out," Ashley encouraged and walked her fingers down Craig's arm like they were spider's legs. "Joey's house can be just ours this weekend."

Craig shook his head. "I can't just back out now. As much as I love having you here…and it's like our house…I wonder what Joey and my mom were like when they first got married. I bet it was like this."

Ashley smiled at him, anxious to bring him back. She didn't want to hear any more theories on death. "I bet you were all smiles when Angie was born."

Craig stood up and went over to his bookshelf and pulled out several photo albums. He set one down in front of Ashley. "Okay no laughing."

"Is this you?" Ashley asked, looking at the photo of a baby wrapped in a blue baby blanket.

"Yeah!" Craig flipped the pages, slowly looking over everything. "My Grandma…my dad's mom…brought these over after he died. I didn't even know he still had them. I thought he tossed them out. This whole time I thought I only had like five pictures of my mom."

"Parents do weird things after divorces. I'm sorry it wasn't better for you."

"Yeah he just wanted every reminder of her gone. But you know, then there was me. Constant reminder," Craig declared and went for another album, this one something his mother started for him after the divorce. There was all these weird little sections in his life and they all never really met up. "My mom started this one. I'm kind of finishing it."

Craig showed the most recently family portrait he, Joey, and Angie had taken at Thanksgiving. Joey had wanted him to set up his camera on a tripod and set a timer so they had a family portrait to send out with the Christmas cards. Craig has sighed, saying that Joey was being such a dad, and complied. He drew the line at dressing up though.

"I think Joey sees my mom in me and that's why he kept me around. I mean, it's what my dad saw too, but it just pissed him off."

Ashley's eyes lingered on a photograph of Craig with his birth parents. Her eyes darted between that and Craig's with his stepfamily, his new family minus Julia.

"Did your mom know…" it fell out of her mouth and she didn't dare to finish.

"What?" Craig asked with a boyish smile. It actually took him a few moments to put it together. It was the question they all wanted the answer to. Did his mother know what his father was like? Did she know that by the time he was 14 the beatings would have escalated into repeated sharp kicks to his ribs and colorful welts on his back?

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

"Um no, it's not that," he replied, thickly. He had just never been hit with that thought before. No one had ever directly asked. Sauvé and Joey asked how things were between his mom and his dad. How did his dad treat his mom. What were their fights like? Joey had never questioned if his father hit his mother but sometimes he sensed that he wanted to. Truthfully, Craig didn't know. When they did fight, he hid in his closet.

"My family is strange, Ash. We pretend things don't exist. And then it's sort of like they don't anymore. I mean…people like Sauvé ask me about how my dad was with my mom. I can't really remember all of it. Or maybe it's that I choose not to remember. But then I feel like I should remember something more when people like her ask questions. Isn't that weird?"

Ashley just shook her head and flipped the page. Standing close to his mother at an amusement park for one shot and sitting next to his father at a holiday dinner, his father's hand firmly on his son's shoulder in the other. She kept looking for signs. She wasn't sure what. But Craig was almost always smiles. She remembered that from the first days of Degrassi when she met him. Maybe it was easy not to see it. Craig was great at hiding things.

"But you know what really gets me is that I know I don't have all the answers. There's some stuff I can find out from Joey; like where he first met my mom. But there's other things. Things I can't ask my mom or my dad because they aren't here anymore. I mean…what do I do then?"

"What would you want to know?"

Craig shook his head and went for his blue jeans, then his shirt. "I'm starving. I'm going to start dinner."

He didn't have much time. Not for dinner. It was the amount of time between when Ashley got dressed and arrived in the kitchen. He hoped that she would take a few extra minutes to fix her hair. Craig didn't event think about it. There wasn't another option. He unscrewed the bottle of vodka, enjoying the pop of the seal and the heavy weight of a brand new bottle. The first gulp burned his throat and almost made him head for a chaser. But he felt it almost right away. Warm and numbing his head. It was almost medicinal. If he had a broken leg they would numb the pain. The memories hurt just as bad. Another gulp.

Craig heard movement upstairs and he quickly put the bottle in the cupboard with the rest and had a few seconds to grab a handful of chips to cover the harsh stench he was sure was on his breath. Ashley wouldn't understand this. How could she?

He was pre-heating the oven and setting a kettle of water on the stove. She came up behind him and snuggled up against him. The embrace was warm and familiar and he couldn't help but look down and smile at her resting her cheek on his shoulder.

"I can't believe you are cooking. I had no idea."

"Hey, I'm going to make sure that you never ever want to leave," Craig replied, turned to face her and go in for a kiss.

Ashley tasted it, there behind his tongue. Strong, bitter, and slightly numbing. Alcohol. Pulling away, she pressed her fingers against her lips for a moment.

"I upset you," she realized out loud.

"What? No. No, of course not. I'm used to stuff like that in my head."

* * *

"Come on, shots!" Craig said, taking Ashley's hand and leading her through the growing crowd.

"I was trying to keep people out of Joey's room," Ashley explained and noticed how Craig didn't notice the sound of a crash somewhere to their left. She couldn't locate the source through the crowd of bodies.

"Ah, whatever. Who cares. We have tequila," Craig said and smiled over at Ashley and then at Evie, who was pouring the liquor into shot glasses.

"You in?" Evie asked, taking note of Craig's girlfriend.

Ashley fumbled with an earring. There was only a handful of times that she had drank hard liquor, those times always when she was with Craig, Ellie, and Sean. It felt safe then; like she didn't have to worry about how they viewed her when she couldn't stop giggling, rambled on about her grade eight year, or worse, when one of them held back her hair when she threw up. She was certain she'd throw up by the end of the night. She still remembered when Sean's friend Jay had called her a lightweight and it'd made her blush.

"I'm in," Ashley declared and gave a small smile to the brunette when she nodded in approval. She watched as Craig laughed at something Evie said and she gave him a playful punch in return. Evie was pretty, Ashley noted as she looked over Evie's short skirt. She had seen her around before, sometimes with Craig and other kids that she only was on a first name basis of. Sometimes they remembered her, sometimes they were too stoned, and other times she was known as Craig's girlfriend.

Ashley took the shot after the other two and hoped that she didn't flinch at the taste, strong, a bit metallic, and sticking to her tongue. It was heavy in her mouth and then she felt herself going up. It was that strange feeling, obviously chemical. It was nice and slow, rushing over her. She lowered her head a bit and looked over herself, maybe to make sure she was still there. Suddenly she was more sure of the black dress she'd picked and for a moment, swore that her boots made her taller. She glanced back at the group around the kitchen table. Evie didn't think that way, she was sure. She had a hand on Craig's shoulder and her eyes on the boy to her right.

"Let's do another," Ashley encouraged, wanting to feel more sure of herself.

Evie smiled at her and poured another round. "That a girl. You just need to chill, do a shot and maybe have a smoke."

Ashley did the shot at the same time as the others this time, tossing her head back when it was done and enjoying the music that was swelling around her.

"I love this song," she said and felt Craig wrap his arms around her. She let him embrace her for a moment and then took his hand and started to lead him into the group that was dancing.

"You look so gorgeous tonight," Craig said into her ear, his lips close to her neck. He moved away enough to see Ashley smile at him in response. He swore he'd always remember that smile. He couldn't stop staring at her mouth sometimes. "You look so amazing."

After cleaning up the kitchen after their huge feast this morning, they headed to a thrift store to pick out party clothes. She wanted a black dress with sequins and got Craig to purchase a suit coat. During the first day of planning, Craig wanted a dress code. Black and red seemed to fit. The idea failed to make it beyond discussion but Craig wore a blood red dress shirt and Ashley had the color streaked in her hair and on her lips.

"Where do you know her from?" Ashley had to ask.

"Who?" Craig nearly had to shout back to be heard.

"Evie."

"Oh we just see each other…around."

"Do you party with her?"

"What?"

"Do you party with her?" Ashley repeated, louder this time.

"Yeah. She's wild."

"Do you like her?"

"What?"

"You like her."

Craig laughed a little at that, secretly enjoying the jealousy a little. Then he said sincerely, "We're just friends. She's flirty with everyone, give her till the end of the night and I bet she will hit on you two or ten times. Anyway, I like you…love you."

"I love you too," she repeated loudly next to Craig's ear and they moved in closer to one another, bodies swaying together with the song.

"Tonight's going to be our night and everyone's going to know it," Craig said, glancing around. He was sure they had to look how he felt they were the center of the universe. "I've never felt this amazing before."

He kept Ashley close, alternating between pressing his lips on her and whatever bottle was in his hand. Her hands were wrapped around his neck and he offered her sips of alcohol, enjoying how every sip seemed to make her wiggle her body against him harder, her dress growing moist with sweat as the crowd thickened.

"It's like everything has been leading up to this night. This is what it feels like to be alive!" Craig proclaimed.

* * *

Sometimes when he drank, he was fine. He liked to chat with other people at the party or wouldn't be afraid to make a fool of himself on the dance floor. It was a smooth steady slip into intoxication and all the things that haunted him vanished. Then there was the other nights. The nights that made him wake up in the morning, wonder what he did, and was left to evaluate the damage that people clued him into later on. Those nights always felt dangerous and he actually kind of lived in fear of them because the alcohol seemed to attract his ghosts instead of chase them away. And he couldn't deal with them when drunk. Naturally, the best option seemed to be to drink more.

And that was what he was doing. He couldn't stop even though his brain had given out that sharp warning and things had started to shift and the atmosphere became dark. The night was declining into paranoia and fear, judging from how he swore Marco left the party early because he thought this was all to spite Jimmy (another shot), Spinner and Evie made a joke at his expense (another shot), and Sean was holding _Ashley_ close as they danced. When he saw that, Craig went up to his room and retrieved a pint of vodka that was tucked away in his sock drawer.

He felt himself coming down, way down. Which was why he sank down onto the stairs and watched the people squirm around like worms as they danced in the living room. So close, nearly on top of each other or maybe it was that his vision was spinning a little. Craig yanked his suit coat off, feeling like he was burning up.

"Hey man, you like vanished," Sean greeted as he approached. He watched as Craig ran a weak hand over his eyes and blinked a few times.

"What?" Sean questioned as he watched Craig's lips move but he couldn't hear him over the music.

"We're still friends, right?" Craig asked and suddenly lunged forward, taking grip of Sean's forearms. Sean was surprised by his force as the guy seemed limp like he was made of jello before. Craig's gaze was unblinking; before Sean didn't think that Craig's pupils could dilate anymore but it seemed like they had swallowed the hazel in his eyes now. He stared into them, the two coal black holes that were his eyes.

"Yeah, of course we are," Sean reassured.

"I know you didn't want to be here."

"No, Craig. It wasn't that. It just seemed…soon."

Craig laughed bitterly and took another drink. "Get used to it. It always feels that way. You aren't ever going to forget."

"How much have you had to drink?"

"I'm still awake so obviously not enough. You'll thank me for tonight. You'll see how it's easier to fall asleep when your wasted."

Sean steadied Craig as he drunkenly got to his feet and cautiously watched him as he moved out into the crowd. He wondered why people like Craig drank to that point of irrational depression and anger. And they just kept on, thinking each gulp would bring them up instead of bringing them down.

Craig glanced around, not recognizing a single face. He couldn't remember who he was looking for. Then she popped out of the crowd. The absurdity of it sent him stumbling back a few steps, bumping into other drunk teenagers. Then he moved forward. She was just standing there, looking out of place. It didn't make sense but he didn't care anyway.

"Why did you leave me? You didn't want me around did you?" Craig demanded.

"_Why are you talking like your father?" his mother accused back._

"What? I couldn't find you after you went to get another drink," Ashley explained.

"You wanted your own family. One that didn't include me."

"_What are you doing here? Joey takes you in, treats you like a son and this is what you do?"_

"Is this about my dad's wedding?" Ashley finally asked, feeling like they weren't even talking. There was some block in between them, preventing conversation. Was she that drunk? The memory of her grade 8 experience on ecstasy poked at her brain; there would always be a part of her that was afraid of drugs and alcohol.

"You wanted me gone!" He couldn't even hear the music anymore and he didn't feel it when someone dancing bumped into him. He could just see her, his dead mother there like the ghost of the dreams that haunted him. He wanted to tell his mother all these things. Finally he had the chance. He took another gulp from his pint of vodka, hoping it'd make him brave. His eyes watered a little and he chose to believe it was the sting of the liquor even though it tasted like water now.

"I'm like this because of you. I drink because of you. It's all because of you. Because you left me with him and he…beat me. And then you died and what does any of it matter anymore?" Craig slurred.

"_I am so disappointed in you."_

"What are you talking about? Slow down," Ashley encouraged and reached for the bottle of vodka.

"Forget it…forget you," Craig yelled and jerked away from her touch. He turned away and began to stumble through the crowd. "I don't know. I don't know," he mumbled to himself and used the railing to pull him up the stairs.

"It just needs to be quiet. Just shut up," Craig nearly yelled and if anyone acknowledged him rambling to himself, he didn't know.

He felt like he had climbed a small mountain when he got to the top of the stairs. That had to be why he was gasping for air and coughing. He wasn't sure how it happened but found himself on the floor, the table and the lamp overturned beside him. He found that his arms were barely strong enough to lift him up. Craig glanced around and saw that this got people's attention. Was Jay laughing at him? This was what gave him the strength to get to his feet and stumble further down the hallway.

The house wasn't his anymore; he barely was aware of which door lead to what room. He got lucky with the bathroom and stumbled inside. He fell down onto his knees and managed to get a hand out to break his fall so he didn't hit the ground face down. Everything was so…heavy. He didn't even feel much of the nausea; the moment when he vomited just happened and he wasn't able to get to the toilet. He only had the strength to roll away from his puke.

"Craig. Craig, are you okay?" Ashley demanded as she rushed into the bathroom. She listened to him make strange sounds, like a cross between a gasping for air and gagging.

"Craig," Sean repeated, crouching down beside him. "Wake up."

"I just want to sleep," Craig mumbled, managing to open his eyes for a moment. Sean's hands were on him, firm and shaking his shoulders. He struggled to sit up, his body crashing into Sean's. The movement caused the room to spin more violently. He couldn't recognize the faces that were gathering around him.

"No. You can't sleep," Sean replied and leaned Craig against the bath tub. His heart was pounding and he felt nearly sober from the experience. Something wasn't right. Then the sound started again and Sean was glad they had him sitting up and not laying down, where he could choke on his vomit. Craig himself wasn't sure if he was going to throw up or if he was just trying to breathe. It felt like there was something in his throat.

"This isn't normal," Ellie said, observing the moment when Craig passed out again.

"Come on, wake up," Sean had encouraged and retrieved a glass from the bathroom counter and filled it water, not hesitating to toss it on Craig's face. His friend didn't awaken. "He's never been this bad."

"It's a party, it happens. Just let him sleep it off," Jay encouraged from the doorway.

"I don't think so," Ellie disagreed. She saw that Ashley already had her cell phone out. She nodded at her, giving her permission to call for help. She was surprised by what she heard.

"Mom? Can you come over to Craig's? I need you," she said into the receiver. Then "Yes. Craig has been drinking too…too much, I think. I don't know what to do."

Then she ended the call and silently debated for a moment on her mother's request to call 911; Was this really happening? She had never done something like this before. She wiped her eyes, smearing her mascara. "I'm calling 911, get everyone out."

Jay moved closer to the group as Ashley spoke on the phone, giving the address and describing his breathing. Jay kneeled down beside Sean, who was leaning over Craig and listening to him breathe. "Dude, you have to leave. He's on shit. They might nail everyone here."

Sean sighed at that and began to dig through Craig's pockets. He looked over the white pills in the small plastic bag. "You said you stopped," Sean accused of an unconscious Craig. He felt Jay snatch the baggie from his hands and watched as he went for the toilet.

Ellie was quick to grab it out of his hands. "Don't. They need this so they know what he took."

"Alright," Jay said and held up his hands in defeat. "But I don't think you all should take the fall with him."

"Look, I'll stay. Get everyone else out," Sean declared as Jay exited the bathroom. He could hear the shuffle of feet in the hallway as Jay announced the neighbors called the cops.

"Sean, your student welfare. He's got pills on him, narcotics. I don't know what they do with something like that," Ellie objected.

"You guys go. My mom will be here," Ashley decided and felt Ellie slip her the bag with the pills.

The sounds of the party were steadily dying down all around them. There was first shouting, then the slamming of doors. The music was the last to go. Ashley kept glancing at the window. The headlights from cars in the street were frequent and she could never be sure who was leaving and when her mother would arrive. They never meant for this to happen.

Sean and Ellie didn't leave until they heard the frantic knocking at the door. Their movements were almost exactly in synch; Ashley opening the door and her mother entering as they slipped out the back door. They both gave a hesitant glance back, feeling guilty. Ashley was surprised by the relief she felt as she lead her mother upstairs to the bathroom. There was the guilt that lingered underneath it all and the occasional pulsating mental claim of 'we didn't know how bad it was.' But there was also the tension relieved by having her mother there and watching her lean over Craig, listening to his heart beat and watching him breath.

Kate on the other hand felt like she was being delivered a series of punches. First was the alien sound of her daughter drunk on the phone. She felt the betrayal for a moment as she had always assumed her daughter didn't drink. Then she heard the news about Craig. She had been fearing this for awhile. She saw the recklessness in him clearer than she did with boys similar to him in her youth. Then there was the blow delivered as she glanced around the Jeremiah residence and noticed the bottles and empty plastic glasses on the stairs; Ashley had lied to her about Paige's to go to a party. She probably lied about the night before too to spend the night with Craig. Craig. There he was slumped against the bathtub. What did this kid do?

"How long has he been breathing like this? That slow shallow breathing?" Kate questioned, kneeling beside Craig.

"Um, for about fifteen minutes," Ashley replied as she hesitated by the doorway.

"Craig," Kate said loudly, as if she were waking up one of her kids for school. This teen didn't acknowledge her voice. "Craig," she repeated and began lightly tapping his face. "Did he take something?"

"Uh, he's been drinking. He wouldn't stop drinking." She found herself unconsciously hesitant to explain the rest, the small plastic baggie clutched in her fist.

"Okay, a lot of alcohol. Anything else?"

"Um, I think he might have taken some pills."

"Okay. Okay. Do you know what he took?"

Ashley knelt down beside her mother and unconscious boyfriend and handed over the bag of white pills. "He used to take painkillers, downers, stuff like that. He said he stopped. He said he would stop."

Kate nodded gravely and glanced over the pills before tucking them into her pocket with the intention to turn them over to the paramedics. She gave another quick shake to Craig's shoulders and watched as he began to cough.

"He's waking up. Craig. Come on, stay with us," Kate encouraged, gently shaking him.

Ashley watched as Craig glanced over them, wearing a look of confusion and mumbling unintelligibly. He weakly attempted to push her mother's hands off of him and then went limp again. The screaming of an ambulance siren was growing louder now and then the squeal turned into frantic pounding at the door. Craig, eyes closed, didn't notice.

* * *

**Author's note:**

Hope you don't mind Sean sticking around. Craig needs his buddy! Also hope you don't mind my changing things up quite a bit. I figure that we have the episodes and this is just another version of what could have happened.

Just a few shout outs. The whole sixteen is suicide theme was inspired by the birthday party Francis Bean Cobain threw and raised some concern because of the way her father died. I think hers was called "My Suicidal Sixteen" though. This chapter is heavily influenced by My So-Called Life's Rayanne Graff. Awhile back when I was blocked I watched Other People's Mothers and realized that there's some similarities between characters and relationships. I can see a bit of the Rayanne/Angela dynamic with Craig and Ashley. And Kate and Patty are such Mom's. The party scene and Craig's hallucination was inspired by the Skin's Series 3 episode Effy and when I mentioned to Joa (lalatina15) that I wanted Craig to have a hallucination she suggested "His Mom. Totally freak on her going on about her leaving Albs for Joey and what it was like with him and Albs once she was gone." You can also thank Joa for Evie. Evie is an original character of Joa's and she's going to make a few more cameos. Thanks for reading the past few chapters Joa, especially since you don't like Craig. But you like my Craig. Which is a pretty big compliment I think. I'm glad that people who aren't fans of Craig, Ashley, or Crash still get something out of this story. And for those of you that are here for the Craig/Joey relationship, there's more of that coming up. Joey's about to find out about what Craig's been up to!


	27. Policy of Truth

**27: Policy of Truth**

Joey first saw Ashley. She looked like the morning after with her eye make-up streaming down her face, dress rumpled, and her mother's coat thrown over her. For a brief moment he saw what she probably looked at the start of the evening, elegant to Craig and at what they thought was a grown up party. Then quickly all he saw was a kid. Her words weren't like they usually were, still a little bit drunk although he was sure whatever just happened sobered her up a great deal. She stopped in mid-sentence when she saw him and the hospital staff was quick to notice.

"Craig Manning…is he okay? I'm his father. Joey Jeremiah.," Joey asked as he rushed forward.

"Craig is being monitored for alcohol poisoning," a nurse explained, leading the distraught father down the hall.

"What?"

"This is Craig Manning's father," The nurse explained to a doctor. "The teen who was admitted for alcohol poisoning."

Each time she said that it was a stun gun to Joey's brain. Hours earlier he and Caitlin were in Niagara Falls, enjoying the time alone. It almost felt like they were back in high school; no kids, no work. But when they returned to the bed and breakfast there was a message waiting for him. He glanced behind him and saw his girlfriend with Craig's, an arm around her and she looked like she was struggling for words. What did they do?

"Dr. Myers," he introduced, giving the man's hand a firm shake. "Craig's had a very close call. His blood alcohol level was 0.26 and he's tested positive for other substances. We've taken all precautions to prevent him from aspirating his vomit and have been closely monitoring his breathing and heart rate. You can see him if you like."

"My mom is with him. I…don't like hospitals," Ashley murmured from behind him, feeling like she had to offer up an explanation. They had announced that they could see him after the tube was removed from his throat but she couldn't do it.

"It's okay," Caitlin encouraged, rubbing the teen's shoulder.

The doctor was still speaking to him but Joey felt like he had cotton stuffed in his ears. He saw him gesture to a room and Joey rushed in, Caitlin and Ashley behind him. Joey went for the hospital bed, Caitlin stopped somewhere in the middle of the room, and Ashley lingered by the door.

"What did you do? What did you do?" Joey repeated as he looked over Craig.

"Fine. I'm fine," Craig mumbled, not even opening his eyes.

"Craig's had a lot of alcohol and most likely some prescription pills," Kate explained, stroking Craig's hair in a motherly fashion. "They've given him some Narcan to wake him up some but he's still pretty out of it."

"Why would you do something like this?" Joey demanded of Craig, running a hand over the boy's head and then taking his hand, which had an IV needle in it.

"We've been giving him plenty of fluids to keep him hydrated," The doctor explained.

"Craig…" Joey searched for the right words.

"He just needs to sleep right now," Kate reassured.

"Can I have a couple words with you, Mr. Jeremiah?" Dr. Myers interrupted.

"Sure. Of course," Joey struggled to regain composure. "Thank you, Kate. For being there." And then to Ashley "You did the right thing."

"I'm sure your feeling a million different things right now, Mr. Jeremiah but I just have to ask you a few questions and see if we can see the larger picture of what's going on here."

Joey nodded rapidly, "I'm still shocked by all this."

"Does Craig have substance abuse problems?"

"I…I didn't think he did. I would have seen the signs, right? I'm around my kid." Joey's defenses came up in pinpricks.

"I'm not here to judge. I'm only here to treat Craig. He's a very sick kid right now and I'm concerned about the circumstances that led up to this. About half the alcohol poisoning cases we see in adolescents are their first time drinking."

"So this happened because he was inexperienced," Joey rationalized. That would be easier to swallow.

"It may very well be. Mr. Jeremiah, your son had narcotics on him; Oxycontin. This is a substance often abused. We ran a toxicology test on him to determine the type and approximate amount of legal and illegal drugs he has taken. He tested positive for Alcohol, Narcotics, and Benzodiazepines."

"I…I don't understand."

"Mr. Jeremiah is your son on any medications?"

"…No."

"Has he been on any over the past month? Prescription medications sometimes lay around in the bloodstream and that could be why he is positive."

Joey shook his head. He watched as the doctor flipped through several charts. "This isn't the first time your stepson has been involved with prescription medication. He overdosed at age fourteen on painkillers and sedatives."

Joey cleared his throat. "Um, yes. That was a difficult year for him. His father was abusive and he attempted suicide…it was a cry for help. He's been in therapy for years and he had a social worker. I adopted him recently and I thought things were going well for him," Joey paused after rambling nervously about Craig's past. "His father killed himself. The suicide was over a year ago."

Dr. Myers nodded soberly.

"Do you have to report this?" Joey finally asked after watching the doctor scribble away in a file.

"We handle that on a case to case basis. We are choosing not to. Craig sounds like he's having enough troubles as it is."

* * *

I want to go "home," was the only part Craig actually said. It was like his brain wasn't sending the message to his body. What did I do…what did I do, he wondered to himself.

"It's okay. It's okay," Joey soothed, right by Craig's side the moment he saw him shift in bed. He had one hand on Craig's shoulder and the other went for the puke bucket. Every time Craig woke up, he'd thrown up. The first time he'd stirred out of sleep it was simply sitting up that had triggered a series of dry heaves.

Craig actually looked him in the eyes and it was almost a relief to Joey. His stepson hadn't shown too many moments of being aware of his presence. It made his heart pound and he feared for the worst; how much damage had this kid finally done to himself?

"Hey. Craig. What are you doing?" Joey asked as he watched Craig move sloppily, pushing the hospital blankets away and exhale heavily once he was on his feet.

He wasn't there again, Craig realized. He wasn't sure what came first. He could feel Joey next to him, holding him. His sight came back next and sort of existed in fragments. There was the plastic tubing of the IV and the blood as it ripped out of his hand.

"Craig. Come on buddy, just get back into bed," Joey tried to reason but Craig had his own plans. He managed to hit the button to notify a nurse as he guided Craig along.

"Sick," Craig breathlessly whispered as an explanation as he moved towards a doorway, the bathroom he hoped.

That was how his stepson had been speaking to him lately. With one word and this was the best way he had explained himself so far. Usually it was things he mumbled as he slept or was laying there in bed with eyes half open still in an intoxicated fog. Joey heard him say names and hearing him ask (that was what he assumed) for his parents was the most perplexing. Did he want them there? What was he remembering?

Joey eased Craig down onto the floor by the toilet, his body limp like one of Angie's dolls. He stayed by his stepson's side waiting for the moment when the heaving stopped and Craig leaned against the wall, temporarily relieved by the passing nausea.

He slowly started to become more aware; there was Joey wiping his mouth and a nurse beside his side now, fussing with his hand. "Hurt…myself?" he managed to spit out.

"You ripped the IV out of your hand when you got out of bed," Joey explained.

Craig glanced over at the nurse. It wasn't anyone he recognized. She knew his name though, soothing "You'll be okay, Craig."

He was a little more aware in this moment; the hospital gown damped with sweat and how cold the tiles of the bathroom felt. What did he look like to them, Craig suddenly wondered. He involuntarily shuddered, suddenly cold, and felt Joey's hand on his head. His step dad was acting like he was taking care of him like he had the flu. Moments from the night before flashed through his brain; the beat from a song blaring on the stereo (man how his head pounded) mixed with the crowd in the living room collided with the touch of Ashley as he pulled her closer to dance (everything was a mess now) and he couldn't forget the shots of liquor. Didn't Joey realize what he did? He felt the guilt rumble through him and his stomach churn.

"I don't want you to see me like this," Craig choked out, reaching for the toilet again.

He wasn't aware of Joey again until the dry heaves stopped (he couldn't understand why he couldn't stop vomiting when it was obvious he'd puked up everything from his stomach, which was still sore from the drinking the night before). Joey's hand was on his shoulder, gently massaging it like he wanted to comfort him. But all it did was make his stomach ache worse. "Please. Go," Craig choked out and limply made an attempt to shove his stepfather's hand off of him.

He didn't mean it, Joey reasoned and watched as Craig crouched over the toilet again. That bout of dry heaves left his stepson weak and he and the nurse eased him into a seating position on the floor. Craig made an attempt to shift out of their hands, choking on a sob. It was louder in his head now and it seemed to _fuck him _as he sat there, drunk and pathetic on the hospital bathroom floor. The thoughts went in and out, memories that thrust into his head so fast that he couldn't even really place them. His mother's voice, Ashley, his seventh grade math teacher who scolded him for dozing off in class (not knowing that the night before his dad…), his father accusing him; what felt like voices of everyone he'd ever spoken to thumping into his brain. It was that violating, thoughts taking him someplace they weren't supposed to go and his emotions felt foreign. What was this?

"Please. Go. Don't look," Craig begged again, his voice still slurred. Then he managed to finish that thought, "At me."

But Joey couldn't help but stare. For a moment he could see the little boy still in Craig. He was helpless like that, rubbing at his legs, then his head, and rocking back and forth some. He heard a sniffle from Craig. It took several tries but he finally met his gaze, eyes full of tears. How did he let this kid become such a mess?

"Please. Leave," Craig repeated and weakly slapped his hand against the bathroom floor.

The nurse nodded at Joey. "I can take care of him," she encouraged.

Joey got to his feet, unsure if he was moving slowly in actuality or it was just the feeling of the moment. He stalled at the door but then left, noticing how Craig was becoming more agitated in his presence.

"I'm so cold," Craig complained.

"Let's get you back into bed then," Joey heard the nurse encourage as he ducked out of the hospital room.

There was initially confusion, then hurt. He didn't want him to see him that way and that was understandable, Joey reasoned to himself as he walked down the hospital corridor. But he wanted to be there. That was what he was there for, as the dad. It was what Julia would have wanted.

He wasn't sure how long he had been wandering; traveling up elevators, looking out hallway windows at a cityscape he didn't even really see, and sometimes even jogging down flights of stairs to lose some of this nervous energy. But his thoughts kept coming back to her. Maybe it was the hospital. There was a reason he was avoiding the third floor, he realized. So he took the elevator down, watching the digital numbers drop and he even took that same heavy sigh he used to take whenever he would stop by with hopeful flowers.

"I took him in to keep him safe," Joey silently told his dead wife. "And I can't even keep him safe from himself."

He kept circling the floor and going over signs he must've missed and options he should take. Deep down, right now he just wanted the Craig he interacted with each day. The Craig he knew. This wasn't right. Something was off. This wasn't something he would do. He sighed heavily as he recalled the doctor telling him of Craig's staggering blood alcohol level and the tox screen results.

"What is happening to my son?" Joey actually said out loud alone in the elevator down to the first floor. He made his way towards the door marked "social work" and listened a number of the staff members, including Robert Schaffer. He had no idea what he was going to say, ashamed that he couldn't do better for Craig. He remembered the home visits with Craig's social worker and how he felt like he was being graded on his abilities as a parent. He'd failed this kid and he had to do something to make it right.

* * *

He finally woke up, really woke up this time. It was like someone shot a jolt of electricity through him and after the stun he felt hollow inside. Maybe he wasn't really here at all. Craig rolled over slowly, weary of movement. His head throbbed violently but then the pulsating ache went away. He exhaled heavily, his body strangely numb. He felt like he had any bodily fluids sucked out of him and he lay here bone dry and stuffed with cotton. It took him awhile to even process that he was still here, much less in a hospital room.

Hospital room. Now came the moment he knew too well. It was the moment where he grasped at what clues he had of what happened the night before and evaluated who needed to be called and what needed to be fixed. He threw a party at Joey's, Craig recalled as he struggled to sit up. He began running the list of friends through his head, trying to recall the last time he saw them and what he did or said. He wasn't sure he could ever fix this mess. Craig sighed and looked over himself, feeling grungy. How long had he been here?

"Good morning Craig," A nurse greeted as she entered the room. Craig flinched a little at the sound, slowly starting to feel like he actually was alive. Then she said, "I'm going to take your vitals."

He had forgotten how much he hated hospitals. The lingo they used as they exchanged prognosis and diagnosis and things that concerned the patient but were said like they didn't.

"How long have I been here?" Craig said and began to cough. He struggled to swallow, his throat dry and scratchy. He graciously accepted a glass of water from the nurse.

"You've been here for just over a day."

Craig watched as the nurse took the empty glass from him then reached for his wrist to take his pulse. His hand was bandaged. His eyes moved over to his left; an IV needle and tube stuck in that one.

"We've been giving you plenty of fluids intravenously. You were a pretty sick guy."

He simply studied her for a moment as she took his pulse, then his temperature. Weren't they going to mention why? He had been through this before he realized. When he overdosed on pills in a…his brain stuck on this and then spit it out…suicide attempt. The hospital staff and Joey had tiptoed around that and why he'd done it. Was it like this?

"Now that you are feeling better we can get you solid food again. Do you feel like some breakfast?"

Craig shrugged in response, not sure he could trust his stomach. "We'll keep it light," the nurse encouraged as she exited the hospital room.

He gazed around the hospital room, taking in the familiar fixtures and the smell that was distinctly hospital. He wondered if he was in the one his mother died in or the one his father worked in, not that it mattered they all seemed the same. Nothing has changed since that one night when he refused to leave his sick mother's bedside and the staff finally brought a cot in so he could stay. His father's doctor office, watching him speak softly to a patient and even gave out the occasional reassuring touch to their shoulder or knee. He never was like that to him. Sometimes he was even jealous of the patients and nurses who praised his father. They didn't see what he saw at home.

"Oatmeal, toast, and orange juice" the nurse interrupted his thoughts as she set down a tray and uncovered it. Craig decided the toast was the safest bet, reached for it, and was stunned by the amount his hand was shaking. "That's normal. Your blood sugar is just a little wacky. You'll feel better after you eat," she reassured him.

"I don't remember your name," Craig said after eating some. "I don't remember anything."

"Carol," she said with a smile.

"Joey. Is he here?" Craig wanted to ask for him but the fear of his reaction stopped him.

"Yup. Your dad and step mom have been camping out in the waiting room."

Hearing this woman call them that threw him for a loop. It almost made him shiver, how surreal all this was.

"Do you want to see him?" Carol watched as the teenager took a few small bites of food, a sip of juice, and then shrugged. "He's not angry with you. He's been very worried about you."

"Um. Yeah. Yeah, I do." He stared down at his oatmeal, stirring it with his spoon. Maybe he should have thought this over first. Craig had no idea how he was going to explain the party or how he got so completely wasted he had to be hospitalized. He could hear Joey talking with the nurse now; how was he doing, keep the visit short, his son still needed to rest. There was his footsteps approaching the bed now and the mattress shifted as his step dad sat at the foot of the bed.

"How are you feeling?" Joey questioned. He wanted to hug Craig the moment he entered the room but the teenager's lack of eye contact pushed him away.

"Um, I'm okay actually," Craig replied after he finished the last of his breakfast. "I wasn't sure I could eat but this helped a lot."

"I bet you are coming off of the worst hang over ever."

Craig smiled nervously. "Joey, I'm sorry. Things got so crazy."

"Craig, your blood alcohol level was three times the legal limit, " Joey watched as Craig shrugged. This kid didn't get it. He stood up, moved the table with the empty tray of food away, and pulled a chair up to Craig's bed. Joey rubbed Craig's upper arm, then his shoulder. "Craig. Look at me."

Craig managed to raise his eyes for a few seconds, then let his gaze drop back down into his lap. He wished he could sink into the floor. "I'm sorry. I'm so embarrassed about all this. I don't even want to think about what I did at the party, what I looked like."

"I don't think you get it," Joey sighed. "Anymore alcohol in you and you could have slipped into a coma…or died. You were so lucky you had friends there to take care of you and keep you from choking on your vomit. You were so lucky. Unbelievably lucky."

"Um, what happened?"

"You passed out and Ashley couldn't wake you up. She called up 911 and her mom who…"

"She called her mom?" Craig sighed.

"She was scared. You gave us all quite a scare. They couldn't wake you up and your breathing was so slow, they said. There is no cure for alcohol poisoning, Craig. By the time you were brought here to the hospital it was already in your system. They just had to keep monitoring your breathing and heart rate and help you breathe if you couldn't on your own. You had a very close call."

"I'm sorry. I'm so stupid. I don't know what I was thinking."

"This isn't the first time you've been intoxicated," Joey had to say, remembering that night when his stepson had first moved in and returned home after skipping school drunk…and high. "And this isn't the first time you've taken those pills. The…Oxy."

Joey felt like he'd been schooled in casual drug use over the past 24 hours but that didn't make it any less awkward using slang to try to relate to his kid. What was he doing here? Joey felt out of his league trying to raise a teenager.

"When you first came to live with me, you were mixed up with those. Besides for your suicide attempt there was a night you came home drunk and you said you took them then," Joey thought out loud, trying to make sense of this.

"Didn't I use Valium or something? All that was before I even knew what any of it was or what it did. I just knew that if I took enough, I'd die. And that's not what I was doing last night," Craig tried.

Joey wasn't sure which was worse.

"And I haven't done any of that since then. But it's just I knew what it would do now and I took things too far. It won't happen again. I'm sorry," Craig continued. He knew it was a lie. He wasn't sure where the words were coming from but it was from a place where it didn't feel like lying. After all, the truth was complicated. Craig was biting a fingernail now, trying to sort it out in his head. How could he explain it to Joey when he didn't even get it?

"Craig…do you have a problem with drugs and alcohol?"

That question didn't even make sense to him. He knew he couldn't answer that. It made his skin crawl and his insides hop around. His heart was pounding and he looked at Joey and hoped his eyes didn't look as frantic as he felt. He shook his head. "I just took things too far the other night. Things have been so crazy lately since the school shooting. My dad…he…just over a year ago."

"Why didn't you tell me you were having such a hard time?"

Craig shrugged, fidgeting with the hospital blankets. "You are busy with the car lot. I didn't want to be a burden. I thought I had it under control."

"Buddy, you can always come and talk to me. No matter what my day has been like."

"Oh I know. I know. I didn't mean to make it sound that way."

Joey nodded in agreement, feeling another wave of guilt sock him in the gut. Maybe he had been too busy lately. He hadn't seen any of the signs. Nothing out of the ordinary. "I'm sorry you are having a hard time but you can't get wasted and expect things to get better. Things are going to be there when you wake up in the morning."

"Yeah, I know. I'm going to try not to do that anymore. Because it doesn't work. I know I screwed up, Joey," Craig took a deep breath. "Sometimes I just really miss my mom. And…my dad. In this weird way. I went to the cemetery the day before the party. It was the first time I saw…my…dad."

Joey reached for Craig at that moment and gave him a quick hug.

"And I guess I just got into a headspace or something. I don't know. I'm so sorry."

"That's so scary," the words fell out of Joey's mouth and he still felt like he was letting this kid down. "We're going to get you help."

* * *

Joey and Caitlin sat with Robert in his office. He first presented them with coffee, then launched into what felt like a school guidance counselor suggesting universities only this was clinics, psychiatric wards, and substance abuse counselors. Some clinics came with brochures, others a list of guidelines of how to encourage your loved one to enter treatment. Joey wasn't ready for any of it.

"He threw a party and took it too far. He just needs boundaries at home. I'll get him back into counseling," Joey reasoned and ran a hand over his bald head.

"Craig might need more than that. Most kids don't nearly drink themselves to death and pair alcohol with narcotics," Caitlin reminded.

"He said that he just took things too far. It's my fault. I should have noticed he was getting into that and hanging with the wrong crowd."

"We're just going over options right now," Robert reminded, familiar with the deep denial a parent could have when it came to issues like this.

"We talked earlier. Really talked. He hasn't opened up to me like that in awhile," Joey thought out loud.

"He needs a dad, Joey. Not a friend," Caitlin remarked after a moment of uncomfortable silence.

"What are you saying? If I had started cracking down on him about curfew and beer this wouldn't have happened?"

"I know you wanted to be the fun dad or let him know that it was different here than at Albert's…"

"You haven't been around. I had no clue it was this bad," Joey replied and felt the guilt set in again. "I don't know how I didn't know. But I know now and I'll make sure Craig knows there's consequences. Grounding. I'll make sure I know where he is every hour of the day and the names of all his friends. He took things too far."

"Kids sometimes have bigger problems. Sometimes they need more help than grounding. But we can't take a closer look at what's going on until he detoxes. The best place to have that happen is in a clinic setting."

"My kid isn't a drug addict," Joey couldn't help state. "I would know if he was bringing drugs into my house. I'm around him. It's not like I'm not home."

"Craig isn't a bad person because he has some substance abuse issues," Robert tried to soothe the defensive father. "It's hard to know the signs unless you know what you are looking for. Prescription drug abuse is becoming more and more common with teenagers because they easy to get. Kids don't understand that it's dangerous because it's legal."

Joey looked over the information on a residential treatment program. Craig would be allowed home on the weekends for that. His brain was frantic with reasoning; he would be home on weekends , he would _only_ be home for weekends, no visitors for the first 48 hours, evening visits during the week and weekend afternoons. Joey shook his head. "He's just having some tough times. It was a mistake to stop with the counseling with his school psychologist."

"Joey, you said after the adoption it was extremely difficult to get him to attend sessions," Caitlin reminded.

"So he needs a push from us. Before it was easier to convince him to go because he had a social worker and it was a requirement that he attend. I can get the school involved and we'll give him an ultimatum. Counseling or he's out of Degrassi," Joey looked over at Robert, who was looking unconvinced but seemed to be chewing the idea over.

* * *

"Joey," Craig greeted with a smile, even though it wasn't his first visit. He was just surprised the guy kept coming back. His face fell and he could practically feel the color draining from it as he watched who walked in after him. "What?"

"It's been awhile since I've seen you, Craig. How are you doing?" his former social worker greeted.

He lowered his head and nodded, feeling completely defeated. For a moment it was like when he first met the guy. He had the same suspicions. This guy liked to dig around in his head and his home life, looking for what was wrong.

"What's going on?" Craig finally spoke up. "Why are you here?"

"I stopped in to see him after you had been admitted here to the hospital," Joey slowly explained. "I just need to know how to help…I had no idea you were going through such a rough patch."

"Okay, no. Wait. Just wait."

Robert noticed that the teen's breathing was becoming more rapid, his chest pumping up and down. "I'm not here to take you away from Joey's. I'm here to help. We want to help you, Craig."

"I'm sorry I ruined your weekend with Caitlin, Joey. Does she hate me?"

"No. No one hates you. But we're all very worried about you. Snake found these being passed around," Joey said and handed Craig flyer.

Craig swallowed hard. "I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking."

"Sixteen is suicide?" Robert questioned.

"It's a metaphor!"

"Your father has been dead for about a year right? Still having trouble coming to terms with that?"

"I don't know. I'm never really used to any of…that."

"That's fine. No one is saying you have to get over it. But you need to talk to people about it."

Craig decided to nod, bopping his head up and down twice. Easier said than done. "But I wasn't thinking about it when I planned the party. I wasn't thinking period. Do I ever think? No. I'm a jerk, Joey."

"There's going to consequences for all that," Joey decided to say. Then he reminded, "The theme of the party, Craig. Sixteen is suicide?"

"It was a metaphor! How this is a time when things end and others begin. Life and death but live life to the fullest."

The social worker looked cynical. "That's the message behind the theme and then you drink yourself to a point where your friends can't wake you and you need to be admitted to the hospital?"

"Oh come on like I'd invite the whole school over to watch me kill myself. Yeah, that sounds like a sure fire way to get the job done."

"So you've thought about the most effective way?"

"No. No! I'm just saying if I wanted to kill myself I wouldn't throw a party and try to drink myself to death."

"What would you do?"

"Well, my dad sure…I mean…what? Nothing."

"Two years ago you overdosed on the same kind of drugs you were taking tonight," Joey stated and tried to wrap his mind around this. Maybe it was a suicide attempt. Either way, this kid was just asking for help.

"I honestly don't remember taking anything, Joey."

"You had pills on you. They were turned over to the paramedics. When someone is brought to the ER your condition they run a toxicology screen to see what drugs you had in your system and you tested positive for Alcohol, Narcotics, and Benzodiazepines " Robert stated flatly.

"Okay. Okay. I know I probably took something but I honestly don't remember. I might have been saving them. I don't know. I can't remember."

"What do you remember? What happened at the party? Was someone daring you to drink that much?" Joey prompted, imaging the crowd of high school boys with their beer bongs.

"Um, we were doing shots. And then after awhile I just forgot how much I had to drink, I guess. I don't drink that often, Joey. And it's usually just a couple beers. I didn't know what I was doing." He was so scared that the words just fell out of him. Craig glanced over at Joey, who was nodding rapidly and had a sort of far away look in his eyes. Then he shifted his gaze over to the social worker who looked much more cynical. He looked down again, ashamed. He worked so hard to convince myself that what he was doing was normal and he was certain it would take even more effort to convince anyone else. He had been dreading a moment like this.

"Craig, you need to be honest with us about what you are using and how much of it. Going cold turkey off meds like Oxycontin or Benzodiazepines like Xanax can be dangerous. The symptoms of withdrawing off of Oxy has been compared to heroin withdrawal and seizures are a very scary symptom some Xanax abusers experience," Robert said.

"This is like the third time I've done Oxy, I swear. I didn't know what I was doing that night. I wasn't thinking straight. And the benzos…I'm sure I just tested positive for that because of the Xanax or whatever it was I used to take when my Dad died."

Joey shook his head. "That was over a year ago."

"I know but…okay I know it was wrong but this one dude; I can't even remember his name now, he was in my history class. Well he hooked me up with a bottle. I guess his mom has panic attacks or something and always a script laying around. So I thought it'd mellow me out when I freak out about my dad. I can't sleep sometimes and I just feel all anxious you know?" Craig rambled and found that the words came easy to him. It actually felt like the truth. That was what he did sometimes. "And I didn't want you to worry about me or think I was crazy or anything so I didn't tell you about them. I thought I could just take care of it with the meds myself. Because they were prescribed to me once before."

"That's illegal Craig. To take prescription medication that wasn't prescribed to you," Robert clarified.

"It didn't seem like it was wrong at the time. I'm sorry. I won't do it again. Believe me after what happened last night, I'm scared to touch anything."

"How often are you having anxiety attacks?"

"Um, I don't know. Not that often. It's just been hard like around this time of year."

"Craig, I can't help but take what you did very seriously. If you are struggling, we can get you help. It's anything to feel ashamed of if you are having a hard time coming to terms with things that have happened in the past," the social worker hesitated. "Maybe you should consider taking some time to really focus dealing with the issues. It might be hard at first but it might be just what you need. There's a residential program here at the hospital."

Craig couldn't even process all that. "No."

"You stay there during the week and return home on the weekends. During the day you attend individual therapy sessions as well as group. They work with the school and you'll be tutored several hours a day."

"Joey, I'm not crazy. I don't need anything like that."

"We're just talking about options right now."

"I haven't seen you in over six months how do you know what I need anyway?" Craig demanded of Robert.

"Craig you don't have to get so defensive," Joey couldn't help but say.

"But you don't understand. Like nothing has ever been certain in my life. Being at your house is like the one stable thing. And if I'm not there…"

"The hospitalization wouldn't be a long term thing. I'm not here to take you away from Joey's," Robert tried to reason with the teen.

"Please don't just give up on me Joey. You are like the one person who doesn't…leave. Joey, I just want to go home. With you," Craig said, feeling tears threaten. "I ruin everything. I lose everything."

Joey embraced Craig at the sound of that. "You haven't lost anybody. I'm still here."

"I just really want to go home. With you. I hate being here. It's just reminding me of that one time when I took all those pills and I had no idea if I was going to be sent back to my dad's or where I would go because I could not go back there."

Joey could feel the social worker's gaze on them and noted how he seemed to be observing them rather intensely. He was never going to get used to this guy evaluating his relationship with Craig. But he was the dad now, officially. He was in charge and he knew that he could help this kid. Craig wasn't a lost cause. "Okay, buddy. Your coming home with me. We'll get through this together like we have everything else."

"You mean that?" Craig asked with a small smile as he broke free of Joey's embrace so he could meet his eyes.

"Of course. Your home is with me."

"I feel very strongly that we need to get you some kind of support, Craig," Robert encouraged.

"Not anything where you take me away from Joey's."

"Okay. Inpatient therapy is not on the table right now. But outpatient is. I'm going to give your step dad a list of therapists that might work well with your issues. And some recommendations of psychologists who do substance abuse evaluations."

Joey nodded rapidly to that. It took Craig a few moments to cave and give a small nod in return.

"There's a lot of bereavement camps that operate in the summer. I can give you a list of websites, some brochures. It might be good for you to reach out and interact with other teens who've lost someone like you have."

"That might be good for you, actually," Joey agreed. "You know we all care about you very much but we can't relate to you like one of your peers who's lost a parent."

"Oh no. No. Like going to a camp and doing arts and crafts about my dead parents is going to help."

"Okay…well, I think you know that we are going to want you to start meeting with Ms. Sauvé again," Joey paused and then delivered the news. "I think the school is going to require it. Or else recommend suspension."

"Okay. I guess. I guess that'd be okay. I mean, I know her. I don't want to talk to strangers I don't even know. Or be someplace strange. Joey, I can't do that right now. I just want everything to be how it was before."

Over the past few days all that Joey cared about was knowing that Craig would be alright. He still felt that and like Craig, just wanted him at home. But something else was seeping in; things wouldn't be how they used to be. How could they?

* * *

Joey returned home over his lunch break, no intention of throwing together a sandwich or heating up some soup. He could barely focus at work; details he had no trouble reciting about cars before had been erased from his brain and he struggled with potential sales. It didn't even bother him when he blew one. That just meant he could retreat to his office, pace the small space, and think.

He went for the answering machine first and was hit with dread. 2 new messages. He was certain one of them would be the school, informing them of Craig's disappearance from the rest of his classes or worse yet, he was completely blitzed in math class. His heart pounded. First message, from his mother, played. He had no idea what was said. Update on Angie, he assumed. More guilt; he always sent her to his mother's when he had to deal with these situations with Craig. Second message was from a telemarketer and Joey sighed in relief. He had enough humiliation with Craig at school this morning.

_They both sat in the office, familiar with the wait of seeing the principal. Joey felt like he was fifteen again and about to be yelled at. He almost thought he should be, still feeling the blame of letting Craig descend into a lifestyle of partying that lead to a hit and miss with alcohol poisoning. Mr. Raditch greeted them and encouraged them into his office. He saw a flicker of sympathy in the principals eyes; Craig did not, his eyes on the floor. Joey put a firm band on Craig's shoulder and ushered him. They both sat stiffly down and waited for it._

"_I'm going to ask you this once. Do you have a drug or alcohol problem?" Mr. Raditch questioned._

"_Nah. No. Um," Craig paused. The tension was thick and heavy. _

"_We want to help you but we can't do that if you don't want it. The school is willing to allow you back in if you agree to regular counseling sessions with Ms. Sauvé. If you refuse help, I think some time out of school would give you time to reflect on what direction you want your life to go in."_

_Joey nodded at the principal, still feeling a little rattled from the phone call he'd made the day before informing him that Craig probably needed an extra push to get him back into any form of therapy. He stared at Craig, waiting. His heart pounded. He didn't think they would actually have to go through the ultimatum. "Craig. It's see Ms. Sauvé or you are out of DCS."_

"_Do you have a substance abuse problem?" the principal prompted again._

"_Yeah, I guess maybe I do. Sort of."_

"_And do you want help for it?"_

"_Yeah."_

_Joey watched as his stepson sunk lower into his seat as they went over the schedule for seeing Ms. Sauvé, some days after school, another during his study hall. _

"_There's one more thing. I think it'd be a good idea for us to go through your locker. Just to get rid of anything that should NOT be there. Consider this your second chance."_

_Craig wasn't even speaking by that point and communicated through gestures. This got a shrug out of him and he followed them to his locker like he was awaiting an execution. Joey still thought that it was simply that it was humiliating to have them going through his personal belongings. His stepson had been compliant, entering the combination and opening the locker. Then he moved off to the side, hands in his pockets and didn't raise his eyes as the principal went through his things._

_Joey saw as his eyes widened when Mr. Raditch pulled out a half empty bottle of Gatorade. He opened it, smelled it, and then passed it to him. Joey smelled at the beverage; it was strong with the smell of alcohol._

"_You were drinking in school?" he questioned. Craig's eyes were on the floor again._

_It dragged on and on, his locker was a mess. Craig hoped that Raditch would grow tired and quit paying attention to the details; his art supplies came out and he searched through each box of charcoal pencils and other materials. Joey noticed when Craig nervously shifted his feet when his camera bag came out. Craig held his breath as the principal removed each canister; the third to the last rattling with what was certainly not a roll of film. He watched as Raditch emptied pills into his palm._

"_Oh my God Craig," Joey gasped. Craig could only shrug in response, weak with defeat._

And then Joey knew what he had to do. He paused outside of Craig's room, his hand on the doorknob. A part of him didn't want to know. A part of him wanted to look away. He knew that was what Caitlin thought he was doing, her eyes fresh to their currently troubled household. Joey took a deep breath and opened the door. This whole experience had been like waking up to morning fog, the traffic slow to work and slightly surreal as all the landmarks and exit signs lost in the haze. But the sun came out and you could see exactly what had been there the whole time. This was like the shock of a Monday morning back at work.

Joey started with the closet. Craig's wreck of a closet. He pushed the clothes on hangers as close to the wall as he could get them and started to dig. He found several empty liquor bottles underneath a pile of dirty laundry, a half full bottle of vodka on the top shelf behind a stack of photography and music magazines. There was more half-empty bottles stashed everywhere he looked. Joey overturned the dresser and desk drawers and sifted through the mess of socks and art supplies. He recalled how Craig stored pills in that film canister in his locker and was sure to shake each one, his heart growing heavier each time he discovered another one of Craig's secret stashes.

"What is going on with you, Craig?" Joey mumbled to himself as he looked at the pile of bottles on the floor. His son wasn't okay. It had all been lies at the hospital.

* * *

His mouth dropped and for a moment he felt that feeling like what he'd felt when his father trashed his darkroom. There wasn't broken glass and the posters weren't torn from the walls but it was obvious someone had been in here. Drawers were open, the contents rummaged through. His clothes were pushed around in the closet.

"What happened to my room?" Craig questioned, stalking into the kitchen. He froze when he saw the liquor bottles lined up on the kitchen table. Some were half full, others bone dry. It actually took him a moment to even see the rest of the display; pill bottles, a pile of stray capsules, and his fake ID.

Joey and Caitlin watched for his reaction, both with different expressions on their faces. Caitlin couldn't help but feel disconnected from the situation; she'd only been around Craig for about a week since returning home. Joey didn't blink and wasn't sure how to deal with what felt like a betrayal.

Craig couldn't speak. He stared for a moment and tried to process what felt like a nightmare. He'd always felt that fear of being discovered and they could take away the only thing that made him able to function. How would he sleep now? What would he do when something random reminded him of his father and in a sick twisted way he just wanted to be hit again? Or when he'd recall how powerless it felt to be in that situation and wanted to punch walls? He couldn't do any of that. So he'd drink. Or take the pills that softened the blows all that gave to him. The safety net was gone and he felt like he was hitting bottom. Craig grabbed the wall to steady himself.

"You lied to me," Joey accused.

Craig just shook his head. It didn't feel like a lie. Joey just didn't get it. If things hurt this bad and it felt so wrong to be sober, what other option was there?

"From the party," Craig managed to say.

Joey laughed bitterly at that and had to turn away. He couldn't stand the sight of his stepson as horrible as that sounded.

"I was going to throw it all out after I got out of the hospital. I just didn't…"

"Stop lying to me," Joey yelled and whirled around. He watched as Craig opened his mouth but all that happened was two quick gasps for air. "Just stop the lying!"

This wasn't real. It wasn't happening. "Sorry."

"What was it you said in the hospital? Come on, tell it to me again. Look me in the eyes and tell me that you don't drink that often and have only done Oxycontin a few times."

Craig stared down at the floor.

"I don't even know what half these are," Joey angrily remarked as he picked up the pill bottle and watched the assortment of colored pills tumbled in the bottle. He turned it over in his hand. The label was from a nearby pharmacy and read Joseph Jeremiah, his home address, Flexeril, take one every four to six hours as needed for pain. He recognized a few of the tablets from when used to take the drug for when he threw out his back. "I forgot all about this. You took what was left of my medication, didn't you?"

"Yeah."

"You keep your stash of drugs in a bottle that has my name on it. And that didn't bother you at all?"

"Joey, it's complicated. I don't know how to explain how it happened."

"Well, you sure as hell better try," Joey shouted. He took a deep breath. He'd had to yell at Craig before when the teen missed curfew or blew off a homework assignment. Sometimes he felt like it took force to, like he was expected to be angry. Now he could barely control it. "When did all this start?"

Craig closed his eyes for a moment, sure he was about to pass out. He'd forgotten how to handle anything. A part of him wanted to lunge forward and grab that bottle of vodka or whisky and down gulp after gulp like his conscious wasn't there. Just make it all go away for the time being. Where was he going to be after this was over with?

"Craig. How long has this been going on?"

"Awhile. Summer before Grade 10."

"Jesus Christ."

"But I wasn't the only one drinking!"

"And here I thought it was just beer at Sean's." Joey felt the blame again; he should have kept a tighter rein on this kid.

"It is. It was."

"I have no idea who you are anymore. I don't know what to believe," Joey said after a moment of silence, his tone full of sadness and disappointment. He gestured to the bottles of alcohol and pills on the kitchen table. "I guess I just have to believe what's in front of me."

"It just got this bad recently."

"I bet you think I'm an idiot," Joey remarked and reflected on all the times this had flown under the radar.

"No, Joey. I don't. Don't think that."

"How can I not think that when you have a mini bar stashed in your bedroom? That little act you pulled in the hospital…lying through your teeth and crying about how you just wanted to come home? That was so you could keep doing what you've always been doing; lying, drinking, and popping pills."

Craig shook his head. He could hear Joey pacing around. He had never seen him this angry before. "Things just got out of control," Craig mumbled, fidgeting.

"Shut your mouth," Joey finally snapped, sick of hearing everything that came out of it. He watched as Craig's face shifted from shock, to embarrassment, and then settled submission. "I am so sick of you using every single excuse."

"Okay. Okay, Joey calm down," Caitlin finally spoke up and took a few steps in between the father and son. "We all just need a little breathing room. Craig go upstairs to your room."

Craig nodded rapidly. He moved towards the stairs, his hand still on the wall to steady himself. At moments he was sure he was going to pass out; this can't be happening. He nearly went out the front door, feeling trapped and panicked. He couldn't breathe in here. Instead he went upstairs, feeling like he was floating into the bathroom. There was dry heaves at the toilet, the opening of the medicine cabinet and frantic digging. There had to be something he could take. If you take enough of anything you get some sort of buzz right?

He went for the bottle of cough syrup, taking a few gulps. It was thick like honey and the taste bitter and artificial. But he got himself to swallow. The bottle of over the counter pain medication. He just wanted to swallow anything. It just had to fill him up. He took a couple with frantic handfuls of water from the sink and nearly choked. Back to the toilet, the cough syrup coming up tinted like raspberries.

"Just make it go away," he pleaded on the floor, realizing he was so low but no idea how to make anything better. It took him awhile to actually regain any strength to return to his feet. Craig returned to his room, feeling foggy. This all couldn't be happening. His brain listed a checklist of all the places he stashed pints of booze and bottles of pills. He went through each one, checking it off. It was all gone.

"Fuck. Fuck," Craig whispered to himself.

His hands wouldn't stop shaking and he couldn't breathe. He told himself to inhale and took a sharp breath. Joey just didn't get it. If he had to feel this way he'd drink and take whatever he could get his hands on too. He didn't understand how things could be so low and then so high and at the end of the day Craig often felt like he'd been through a war.

It wasn't safe here anymore, he decided and went for his backpack. He dumped the school books, pencils, and random litter of papers onto the floor. It was safe before, when he first came here. But things started to creep in. His father finally died and he was still here, wandering around in his head and telling him that he deserved to be hit. He still gave him the beatings in nightmares.

Craig stuffed clothes into his bag, not really noticing what he was grabbing. Cash. He needed cash. Focus, focus, he urged himself. But he couldn't do it. Moments of red hot panic and terror before were put out with sips of liquor. Having all that in his room felt safe before. It gave him someplace else to go. It was _safe_. He sat there on the bed, clutching his bag of clothes as he debated running away. Somehow he managed to wait until the storm of thoughts cleared and he tucked the bag under his bed. He had a back-up plan now.

* * *

"My appetite is finally back," Craig announced as he sat down next to Ashley, across from Sean, who was next to Ellie. He was still feeling the awkwardness at Degrassi even after he'd been back a few days. There was something comforting in joining his friends at the table that was damn near reserved for them in the caf but something itched underneath the surface. His friends had been distant with him lately. He hoped it was in his head. So he started to ramble. "Extra Shelia sauce, extra fries. This is probably the best meal I've ever had. It's been like a week long hangover I swear. Finally I'm at the stage where fried food fixes everything."

Craig glanced around the table. No one was looking at him. Ellie, Ashley, and Sean hadn't spoken of what happened that night since Ash had called them up the morning after and reassured them that Craig would be okay. And that was that. They were silent with their thoughts.

"I was so wobbly there for awhile," Craig continued.

Ellie made eye contact and almost said it; why was he talking like he had a hangover? He was in the hospital. She shut her mouth and gave a few stabs to the strange meat the caf featured that day. Craig noticed her gaze and decided to try

"So, Caitlin is back at CQJH. Are you working together on anything?" Craig asked of Ellie's internship.

"Yeah, I just got assigned to helping out with her big project on HIV/AIDS," Ellie replied, feeling like she was giving an answer to a teacher in class.

"That's awesome!" Craig said, a little too energetically. He couldn't help it. Things felt different after he returned to school. He wasn't sure who knew what or how much. Craig also didn't know how much to say; he told Marco and Spinner that they might want to come by the garage and pick up their instruments. Grounded, he explained. It was like they were waiting for more. So he told them Joey found out about the party and left it at that.

Craig's watched as Jay approached and sat down next to Sean, mumbling something about shop class and they tossed technical car terms that he didn't understand back and forth.

"Hey guys, I've got to take off and catch up on some stuff for shop. Talk to you later," Sean declared, getting to his feet. Jay gave Craig a small a nod before taking off, which confused him. He wasn't used to him even acknowledging him and the faint memory of him at the party crept into his head. He wondered if anyone was going to ever fill in the gaps and tell him what the hell went down.

"So I was thinking about our media immersion project last night," Ellie mentioned to Ashley. "I did some sketches for what I thought we could use for the flash animation for the intro to the site. If you want to take a look."

"This is exactly what I had in mind," Ashley commented on Ellie's sketchbook. "Maybe after school we can experiment some with what kind of music we want playing alongside it."

"An Ashley Kerwin original, nice."

Ashley glanced over at Craig, who seemed awfully interested in his lunch. "We have to design a website for Simpson's class. So we're doing this e-zine type thing. I'm doing more the local art and music scene while Nash is about the issues."

"Sounds great. It sounds like something you guys would do." Craig said and felt himself drifting off again. He had to do that, almost for protection lately. Conversations kept happening all around him that he was there, but not a part of. It was so strange how over a week ago he was the one dominating the conversation with his plans for the party.

Ashley glanced over at Craig again. They were excluding him. "Know anything about CSS? It's kicking our asses."

"What?"

"CSS. Style sheets."

"Um, no. I think I'm in like the media immersion for flunkies and those who are otherwise technologically challenged."

"I appreciate that you type less code but that doesn't mean that it does what I want it to," Ellie sighed.

"Um, Ash, can we talk?" Craig finally piped up.

Ashley hesitated. "Yeah. Of course." Craig didn't see the look she shot Ellie before exiting the cafeteria. Ellie's eyes seemed to reply back "You have to tell him."

Craig wandered down the hall, peeking into classrooms and took Ashley's hand and pulled her into an empty one. "It's like I haven't seen you in a week," he commented and went in for a kiss.

"I've been calling you but I always get voice mail," Ashley explained.

"Uh, yeah. Sorry about that. Our last conversation."

"_Hey. Hey, Ash. I just wanted to let you know that I'm okay. Man, I don't even know what all happened," Craig rambled into his cell phone. It was the first thing he went for the moment he got home._

"_It's so good to hear your voice," Ashley greeted._

"_These past few days have been so crazy. So crazy."_

"_Are you at home now?"_

"_Yeah. They kept talking about treatment, Ash. Like locked up. I haven't seen my social worker in over six months and suddenly he's back and talking about psychiatric wards and rehab."_

"_Are you staying at home?"_

"_I guess. I have to meet with Raditch tomorrow with Joey. They were going to suspend…"_

"_Craig. Give me the phone," Joey interrupted. _

"_It's Ashley," Craig explained._

"_Give me the phone."_

_Craig was stunned by Joey's 'I mean business' tone. He blinked a few times, clicked off the phone without saying goodbye, and handed it over. _

"_I want your car keys too. I'll drop you off at school and make sure you have someone I know bringing you down to the car lot," Joey informed and watched as Craig quickly grabbed his car keys off his desk and handed them over. Craig simply nodded in agreement. This felt new. He'd been grounded before but Joey had never seemed this stern._

"Joey sounded serious. I'm not used to a serious Joey," Ashley remarked as she recalled his tone over the phone. She played with her necklace, wondering if he disliked her now.

"He is. Everything has been…intense…really intense. It's so strange how about a week ago we were planning the party. You spent the night…" Craig said, his words slowing down and his mouth smiling softly as he reminded her. They were so happy, so in sync. Ashley pulled his hand away from her torso and broke away before he could kiss her again.

"I…my parents think we should take a break," Ashley said, remembering arguing with her mother the morning after the party.

_The first part of the punishment came from her stepbrother. She still felt something in her stomach when she thought about the look Toby gave her when she arrived home at that awkward time of the morning when it wasn't quite night or morning and it confused the birds. She was at the bathroom sink, cleaning the running mascara and eye shadow from her cheeks. _

"_Is Craig okay?" Toby asked from the doorway. _

"_No. I mean, yeah, he's going to be fine." _

"_Are you okay?" _

_Ashley hesitated and then picked her boots up off the floor. "Yes. I don't know." _

_She had glanced at him as he passed him and saw the surprise and disappointment on his face. _

_Then there was the morning after. Toby hadn't emerged from his room yet, afraid of the meltdown that was inevitable. Ashley sat at the kitchen table, feeling her mother's cold gaze. She was sure he looked how she felt, disheveled in her pajamas and her hair styled for the party the night before a mess._

"_Ashley, I'm really concerned about the direction you are taking your life," Kate said._

"_Everything just blew up. I don't think he meant for the party to be that huge, that much of a disaster," Ashley fumbled for words. It was like this when they confronted her about that night that went crazy when she took ecstasy. _

"_What were you thinking? Spending the night with him; did you think you were playing house? Dressing up and throwing a party like you think you are adults?"_

_Ashley stared at the kitchen table. Her stepfather hadn't said much to her since they returned home. That might be worse than the lecture her mother was giving her. "I'm sorry Mom. We got carried away."_

"_I think you and Craig need to take a break."_

"_No. I don't want to."_

"_All of his choices are affecting you. He's an extremely negative influence at this time."_

"_He needs me. You know about his father, how he used to treat him and then how he died. And his mom," Ashley tried to reason._

"_Those are all issues that have nothing to do with you. You can't fix him. Right now the most that you can give Craig is to show him that there are consequences for his actions, that he will lose people in his life if he continues to abuse drugs and alcohol." _

"But…she was nice to me in the hospital. Joey told me she was there. So she must care. Why is she trying to separate us?" Craig questioned, confused.

"She's scared, Craig. For you and…she had no clue that I drink sometimes. She seemed so disappointed," Ashley sighed and then continued, "She's worried that you…might have bigger issues. That you need to sort out. Before…we can see each other again."

Craig looked down at the floor, never feeling any less awkward when someone expressed concern about his 'issues.' Everything was slipping away and his head was whirling with panic.

"You were so sick. It was so scary that night," Ashley had to say. "You weren't even yourself for awhile there. And then you just passed out. We couldn't wake you up. And the hospital…"

"I wish you didn't see me like that. Please don't remember me like that," Craig pleaded and hoped she didn't see him when he was in ER with a tube down his throat so he wouldn't choke on his own vomit. The look on her face only deepened his shame. She looked so sad…for him.

"I'm so worried about you. We're all here for you, you know."

"The way everyone is talking is freaking me out! I just want things back the way they were. I keep trying to fix things or think of a way to fix it and it's just…" He felt so stuck. "I can't do this alone."

"I know. And you don't have to. I'm here. I'll see you in school. We can email, pass notes. We just…need to take a break."

"Who are you going to date?" Craig sharply asked. He looked down and saw that his hands were shaking. People were taking everything away.

"What? No one. I don't know. I haven't even thought about that."

Craig shook his head. He couldn't focus, thoughts bouncing off the walls. He wasn't sure he was even there. This all had to be a bad dream. He shook his head. He wasn't sure what he was even rejecting. "No."

"What do you want me to do?" Ashley demanded, not feeling like a friend to him at all. Maybe she should have talked to Joey about what was going on. Prevented it all. Or said something to get him to wake up, to stop.

"I want you to keep seeing me. We could make it work."

"How? My parents think we should take a break. And you said Joey is cracking down and you won't be going out. What would we do?"

"I don't know. Sneak out?"

"No," she replied and hesitated for a moment. "I don't want to lie to my mom and you can't keep lying to Joey."

"What? No, it's not lying. It's just stuff he doesn't know," Craig softly argued with a smile on his face. He saw her face fall more and his smile faded and brow creased, concerned. It did make sense in a way. "We used to sneak out before."

Ashley glanced at the door as the bell rang. "I can't. We can't do that. Things are different now."

"This is all changing way too fast," Craig managed to say, feeling like he was about to start hyperventilating.

"I'm sorry. I…have to go," Ashley ran her fingers through the hair on back of his head, maybe one last time, and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "You take care of yourself."

_

* * *

_"How are you doing?" Caitlin asked from the doorway. Craig hadn't even looked up when she lightly knocked and opened the door. He did stop the rocking at the sound of her voice.

"Hmmm? Oh it's…you know…okay," Craig replied.

Caitlin hesitated by the door frame, watching as Craig refused to look at her. The awkwardness seemed to increase by the second.

"How was school?" she asked and moved deeper into the teen's bedroom, eventually sitting down beside him on the bed.

"Weird. I mean, everyone is kind of like Joey. They don't want to talk to me."

"It's not that they don't care, Craig. What you did was pretty scary. People have reactions to that."

"Ashley broke up with me," Craig blurted out and grabbed at his knees, squeezing them tight. If anyone knew how wrong it was to feel this way, they wouldn't ask him to stay this way. He just had to get away. It nearly made him panic when he realized that he had no where to go; they took that away from him.

"Craig, I'm sorry. It's not the end. I'm sure over time and you prove that you can stay sober…"

"Why is everyone talking to me like this?'

Caitlin looked over the teenager. His shaking hands. She gently reached over and gave his hand a squeeze. "How are you feeling? Physically I mean? Sick still?"

"Uh, no. Not really. I just feel really jumpy on the inside."

"You are shaking," Caitlin commented, unable to stop looking for symptoms of withdrawal. "Dinners almost ready. Want to come down?"

"Sure," he agreed and followed Caitlin down. Craig wasn't surprised by Joey not acknowledging his presence. At least there was a place set for him at the kitchen table. He sank down into a chair and kept his gaze on the table; the kitschy pattern on the napkins, how Angie's juice cup didn't match the tall kitchen glasses.

"How was work Joey?" Craig asked, dishing up some mashed potatoes and then passing the dish onto Caitlin. He gave a quick smile to his stepfather across the table.

"I don't want green beans," Angie complained as her father spooned the vegetable onto her plate.

"Veggies do a body good. Eat up kiddo," Joey replied to one child.

"Uh, could you pass the milk…Joey?" Craig asked after several moments of uncomfortable silence.

Caitlin watched as her boyfriend fluffed his mashed potatoes with a fork and took several bites. He didn't even glance at the container of milk to his left.

"Joey?" Craig prompted.

Caitlin set her fork down and watched as Joey continued the silent treatment, taking extra long to chew his food and swallow.

"What did I say about the beans, Angela?" Joey encouraged.

At that Caitlin stood up, circled the table to pick up the milk, and handed it to Joey's teenage stepson.

"Thanks," Craig said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Caitlin glared at Joey as she returned to her meal. This was his solution? Then she saw some flicker in his eyes. It was soft; maybe compassion or guilt. But then he gave her a shrug in response, the kind of shrug that suggested 'well, what do you expect?' She glanced over at his stepson, hunched over his food and not looking up.

Craig picked at his food; smashing the meat loaf under his fork and then turning the potatoes over. It took force of will to get him to actually put it in his mouth, chew, and then swallow. His stomach ached. He felt his head growing a bit light as the memory slowly spilled in, overflowing this moment. It was like how it used to be at his Dad's during meals. The tension thick and him unsure of what words he could say. Don't make him mad, his brain would warn. Just get through this. Craig glanced around the room; Angie playing with her mashed potatoes instead of eating them, the woman who was the closest thing he'd had to a mother as of late, and Joey. Joey. He was at Joey's and he felt like he was at his father's.

"Can I be excused?" Craig spoke up.

Caitlin glanced at the teenager's barely touched plate of food, at Joey, then back at Craig. "Sure. I can bring you up something later," she offered but Craig was gone. She heard him up the stairs now.

"Are you and Craig fighting?" Angie questioned, looking up at her father.

"No," Joey quickly replied.

"Then why aren't you talking?"

* * *

"How long are you going to keep this up?" Caitlin questioned as she put the last dish in the cupboard. "The silent treatment? Do you really think that's going to help him?"

"Look, I just can't stand him…it…right now."

"Then why did you bring him home?"

"That was before I knew the whole story. That was before I knew he was lying like crazy through his lying teeth and had a mini bar in his bedroom. That was before I found out he clearly thinks of me as an idiot," Joey gripped as he entered the living room. He clicked on the TV and surfed through several channels.

"Joey," Caitlin prompted and clicked off the TV set. "You can't just ignore what's happening. If he really drank all that liquor you found in his room and the pills are all his, he needs help."

Joey sighed, still feeling the sting of betrayal. He trusted Craig. He knew he wasn't seeing the bigger picture but he felt too hurt. "Well, he's going to get evaluated by a substance abuse counselor. Robert gave me a list of referrals."

Craig listened intently from the top of the stairs, crouched down and clutching his knees anxiously. Things were moving way too fast. It was all out of control. He began to rock back and forth.

"I know this is hard to consider but I think you should think about the residential program at the hospital," Caitlin encouraged as she looked over the forms and brochures they brought home from the hospital.

Craig found himself on his feet and descending the stairs when he heard that. "You can't come home and just want to send me away."

"Don't think about it that way. We wouldn't be sending you away. It's to help."

"Why should you have any say? You aren't my mom. You haven't even been around!"

"Don't speak like that to Caitlin," Joey reprimanded. "Who are you lately?"

Craig felt himself slipping into that place, the mental space that scared the living hell out of him. Before he was able to control himself, keep playing what was starting to feel like a role; he was fine, he was sorry, he didn't know what he was doing. At this point the lies felt like the truth and the truth felt like lies and right now all he wanted was to get out of there. "I…I need to get out of here."

"Oh no. You aren't going anywhere. You need to sit down and finally face up to what you did."

Caitlin hadn't moved or said a word. She racked her brain for a way to control this situation because she had a feeling the fight was about to get ugly. Craig and Joey had too much they that hadn't said to each other and it was about to all spill out.

"Do you think this is all a game?" Joey couldn't help but angrily question as Craig sank down onto the couch after some hesitation like he was debating to run up to his room or out the front door.

"A game?" Craig replied, still a little slow. Then the anger was in him as well. People thought that he didn't know what he did, that he didn't realize that the drinks and drugs were shredding his life apart. They didn't realize that he felt it the most, that voice that whispered he had nothing left. "Yes Joey, I think that it's all a big game."

"Well with the choices you are making lately it sure seems like you think you have a few lives stashed away some where. We went through this once already with the pills. What don't you understand?"

"What don't you understand? I'm tired of thinking about my parents, missing my parents, hating my parents. I'm tired of remembering. I want to go away. That's all I've ever wanted. All that I care about is never feeling that way again. If I have to cut off my own foot to take my mind off it, so be it. All that matters is shutting all this off," Craig explained and Joey could see the determination in his stepson's eyes.

Joey shook his head sadly. "Oh my God. Who are you? What happened to you?"

"Oh please. Maybe I'm the same mess I've always been. Like you had any idea of who I was before you took me in. You didn't care who I was before I came to stay here. All you cared about was taking my mother away."

Caitlin gasped at that. She watched the emotions flow through Joey's face and she actually put a hand on his arm, afraid of the two males getting too close to one another. Craig's comment was coming from a familiar place, a voice Joey had heard before and it wasn't Craig's. Albert Manning. Joey started the feverish pacing again, the past nipping at his heels. Julia. Albert. Manning. Craig. He took this kid in and was trying to be the father, trying to have control in this situation. Trying to know what he should do. He was failing at this, the father thing.

Craig wasn't sure how long he could keep it together. Each day it seemed like he lost something, someone. And to think that a week ago he thought that he had it all, girlfriend spending the night with no parents. He had never felt such a connection with her before…and now it was all gone. His friends and Joey seemed like they hated him. He really couldn't blame them. He ruined their night and the party left Joey's house a mess, his mother's vase shattered and the rug stained with vomit.

"You never would have pulled a stunt like this if you were living with your dad. I don't get it," Joey gripped, stopping the pacing to stare down at his stepson. He immediately regretted it when he saw the look on Craig's face. He looked like he had been slapped.

"Wow," Craig mumbled. "Thanks for throwing that in my face."

"No, Craig…I didn't mean it like that," Joey tried to explain, feeling a break in his rage. What he meant was that he worried Craig didn't respect him as a father figure.

"So you think that a person like me needs that, huh? To be smacked around on a regular basis? Maybe you are right," Craig sharply said and stood up.

Joey simply shook his head. "I didn't mean it like that," he repeated and watched as Craig took a few steps closer to him.

"Go ahead. I wouldn't blame you. Look at what I did to your house. Come on. Hit me," Craig angrily encouraged, his tone intense but he wasn't yelling. Not yet. He was close enough to his step dad that their chests almost touched. Craig stared down at him, his gaze unblinking. "Hit me."

"You need to back up right now."

Joey's tone was gruff, dominating as he was trying to take back control of the situation. But Craig didn't fully understand and the situation felt disconnected. He tried to put it back together and realized he was feeling that fear. That fear that he did something wrong. It was prickly and sharp, like the wind on the coldest winter day. He did something wrong so he should be hit.

"I need…out," Craig mumbled, quickly moving for the door.

"No. You need to stay here," Joey demanded. Lack of control again. He didn't feel like a father and had no idea what to do. He reached for Craig, maybe using too much force as he grabbed his arm.

Craig whirled around and shoved his stepfather, not as hard as he was capable of but strong enough to send a message. "Get your hands off me."

Joey was stunned. He could see that look in Craig's eyes. He hadn't seen it since first taking him in. It was that trapped, wild animal look. "Craig, it's me. Joey. I'm not your dad."

It must be that fight or flight thing. That had to be where Craig was going mentally. Or else whatever insanity that lived in his dad lived in him too, flowing hard through his veins. Joey saw it too. He knew he did. Just let go, some sensation whispered to him. Craig angrily whirled around and struck the wall. He felt the plaster crumbled under his fist. His breath came in sharp and things felt different now. He almost asked out loud; where did I go?

"Craig!" Caitlin yelled at him.

"What is going on with you? Is it the drugs and alcohol?" Joey demanded. "How could I let this happen to you?"

Joey kept saying those same three questions. He heard when he went through his room and found out all the things he'd secretly been doing. "I don't know what's going on!" Craig said then bitterly, "You didn't do anything. I did this all on my own."

He wasn't sure he was even breathing at this point. Joey's heart pounded and he hated to admit but he was afraid. "Go to your room now," Joey demanded and hoped that his strong "dad" tone didn't sound as fake as it felt.

"Oh my God," he breathed to Caitlin after Craig was out of earshot. "What just happened here?"

Craig was wondering the same thing, pacing in his room. Focus, focus, he told himself but only fragments of what just happened were rippling through his brain. If Joey didn't hate him before, he certainly did now. He rubbed at his chest, heart pounding hard and his lungs not filling with air. He couldn't breathe in here.

"I can't do this," Craig decided and pulled the backpack with clothes out from under his bed. There was no way he could fix the mess he was making here. His frantic thoughts kept coming back to one thing: run.

_

* * *

_

**Author's Note**: I did some googling on the legal and medical consequences Craig might face and this is as close to accurate as I can get. I'm not sure of Toronto's individual laws. I've also never had alcohol poisoning, thankfully, but I do know that they rarely pump the stomach or give activated charcoal since whatever you drank is already in your system. Hopefully this all came across as fairly realistic.

Shout out to my buddy Joa (lalatina15) again for offering suggestions when I'm stuck and just in general encouraging Craig's bad behavior (wink wink). Evie's coming back next chapter! Much thanks again to everyone who leaves a review and encourages me on.

Long chapter is long. There might a few bloopers here and there but I'm getting a bit tired of this and calling it good. I tend to hop around the different "sections" and I hope I finished everything I was going to. Hopefully the next chapter will be up quicker than this since a good chunk of it is already written.

Song title credit: Policy of Truth by Depeche Mode.


	28. Run

**28: Run**

He felt like a live wire, bouncing and twisting with energy. A bundle of nerve endings ragged and raw from too much stimulus. The emotions came at him in waves, the anger hitting him then pulling back like the ocean current and the sadness drifted in then back out. Craig just kept moving, taking comfort in the dark street. With a heavy sigh, he turned the corner and headed for something familiar.

He'd been here before. Of course he had. He had been to Sean's more times than he could remember, the route so familiar he didn't see his surroundings. But it was the situation that jumped out at him; knowing that he had no where to go. There was that night after his dad hit him and he'd wandered aimlessly, not wanting to return to Joey's and show him what he suspected each time he went for a visit with his estranged father.

"I didn't know where else to go," Craig explained to Sean, his voice sounding strange to him. This was the present, he was here.

"Craig. Hey. What's up," Sean greeted and gestured inside. He placed a hand on Craig's shoulder, encouraging him. Then he noticed the bulging backpack on his friend's back. "Uh, do you want to sit down?"

Craig ignored the offer and continued pacing around the small apartment; into the kitchen, then back into the living room, and around the couch like he was a race horse circling the track. He wasn't seeing much, certainly not Ellie when she emerged from the back bedroom dressed for bed in Sean's boxers and a white t-shirt. Sean held out a hand for her to stop, still studying Craig's frenzied movements, and watched Ellie slink back into the shadows some. He was his friend but at times Sean didn't fully trust the guy's actions.

"I couldn't stay there. Everything it going too fast. Joey…went through my room. And found everything. He's so pissed off, Sean. And he's fighting with Caitlin. I couldn't stay there," Craig rambled.

"Pissed off how? What are the fights like with Caitlin?" Sean asked, trying to make sense of what Craig was telling him.

"Oh no, it's not like…that," Craig confirmed and didn't have to explain any further. Joey wasn't the one who hits. It was him. He almost wanted to tell Sean this; it sat there on his tongue, waiting for him to spit it out.

"Come on and sit down."

Craig ran a hand over his face and it was then that Sean saw his knuckles, the skin broken and an angry red. Craig yanked on the sleeve of the sweat shirt he wore under his leather jacket, not wanting him to see.

"What happened to your hand?"

"You were angry like that once, yeah? But…I didn't hit him. But I was close. I never wanted to understand what being that pissed off and like…caged in…a person feels when they are that angry. I swear when I punched the wall I was just looking to break it down so I could get out of there."

Sean looked away. It was weird when people dragged up the past like that. He hadn't been the scared kid who threw punches in awhile. _"Use those tricks your social worker taught you," _the ghost of that moment with Tracker lurched up from the back of his brain. His mind drifted further back to the run in with Tyler back at Wasaga Beach; _"Pissed? Go on. Sucker punch me in the other ear and flee town. That's your move isn't it? Or do you kill and run these days? Cause the kid died this time. Didn't he hero? Sixty bucks, sixty minutes. Free for you trailer park boy. Wouldn't want to take your lunch money…again!" _Sean was feeling those walls come up that Craig had to have been talking about. He felt that cage sometimes in Degrassi, remembering Rick and the gun. Yeah that had made him want to kick in teeth or at least tear apart a room. And he didn't even know why some of the time.

"Oh my God, I've never had a fight like that with anyone before. It was like with my dad. But you know…it wasn't Joey like that. It was me," Craig admitted after several moments of silence. He watched a Sean's eyes lost some of their glaze.

"What happened?"

"I was trying to keep it together. I was. A few days ago he went through my room and found everything. And he hasn't been speaking to me since. Caitlin…well she just speaks to me like I'm some teenage alcoholic. And then tonight we fought. I don't even want to remember the things we said to each other."

Craig finally sank down onto the couch, feeling some sort of temporary relief. It was like his brain was finally beginning to cool down after going 150 miles per hour. He was a little stunned by how quiet it suddenly was in his head and then his hands started shaking as he realized he couldn't stand to feel anything. He just wanted to shut everything off. It was too intense otherwise.

"Hey Craig," Ellie finally greeted, coming out of the bedroom, feeling guilty for hearing every word of their conversation.

"I'm sorry. Sorry for coming by so late."

"Don't worry about it. Can I get you something to drink?" Ellie offered and swore she saw that glint in his eyes. "Tea? A coke? I don't even know if we have any of that."

"Ah no, I'm good. Maybe some water," Craig decided, realizing his throat was dry from the brisk walk over and that heavy panicky breathing he was doing before.

"Are you planning on going somewhere?" Sean asked after a few minutes, his eyes on Craig's backpack. "I mean you can stay here, if you need a place to crash."

"Yeah. Yeah, I can't stay at Joey's."

"I'll get you some blankets," Ellie said, heading for the bedroom closet. She heard the jangling of the phone from there and almost called out for Sean to answer it. Returning to the living room, she was greeted with the sight of Craig looking agitated again.

Craig twisted his hands around his knee caps, waiting for it to stop. He was greeted with a few minutes of silence where he could breath and then it started again. The methodic jingle of the phone seemed to drive the argument he had with Joey deeper into his brain. _"You never wound have pulled a stunt like this if you were at your dad." _And Joey was right. He needed that, he needed someone to hit him. _"Hit me," Craig had encouraged. "Hit me."_

"God damn it," Craig shouted at the ringing phone. "Can't he just leave me alone?"

"He's your dad…step-dad. It's Joey. Come on, just talk to him," Sean encouraged. He started to go for the phone and Craig's movements were quick. He barely said hello over the telephone line. "I wasn't going to say you were here," Sean shouted at Craig as he ducked out the door.

**

* * *

  
**

Ellie, fully dressed by this point, went for the door. The knocking was frantic. While hoping it was Craig, she expected his stepfather.

"He's not here," She greeted Joey. "Sean is out looking around the neighborhood."

"I…I should be looking too," Joey reasoned, still fighting to come up with a plan of attack. It had been a punch to the gut when he had discovered Craig's room empty and quite a few of his clean clothes missing from the closet. He actually had to steady himself against the wall. He had felt that sinking feeling before, it came at the moment when something you dreaded happened. He had felt it when Angela was an infant and ran a dangerously high fever that led to a hospitalization, when Julia announced her cancer, and Craig's overdoses. That feeling always came when he knew that things could get better or they would never be the same.

"Sit down, I'll get you some coffee," Ellie encouraged. "That's actually the one thing I know that we keep fresh around here. There was a classic moment the other day when Sean took a swig of milk that had gone bad."

Ellie found herself rambling, mostly out of nervousness. While the coffee was brewing she told Joey about how she loved working with Caitlin at the news station, Ferret Bueller's latest close call with the electric cords, and even the bad 80's movie she and Sean caught at some midnight showing at a positively ancient movie theater when they didn't have the money to see the most current flicks at the theater Paige worked at.

"How did he seem to you?" Joey asked as he took the cup of coffee and watched the red head sit down across from him on the couch.

Ellie sipped her coffee (black, always black) for a moment. "I don't think he's well."

"Why didn't I see it?"

'He didn't want you to? He's different around us. And I guess we weren't good enough friends to him because we didn't really see it either. Or we thought we could take care of it."

Joey wasn't sure what to say to that. Didn't she realize that she, Ashley, and Sean were just kids? It wasn't up to them to take care of Craig. He tried to sort through the mental list of questions he had when he heard the front door. "Craig?"

"I couldn't find him," Sean declared, stomping snow off his boots and rubbing his hands to warm them. "I even checked the roof of the building, thinking he might head up there since we used to hang up there."

Sean kicked off his boots and then sat down next to his girlfriend. Craig's stepfather was staring intently into his coffee like it was some oracle and he was searching for answers.

"Do you have any idea where he would go? I know you want to protect him but he's not in trouble. Please be honest with me."

"No clue. He could be at like 20 different places, I don't know. He really didn't say. I did the wrong thing."

"Be honest with me, where do you think he'd head off to?"

Sean took a deep breath. "I'd guess he's going to couch hop. I don't know if he'd go to a party. I don't know what is going through his head right now, to be honest. Something is off, Joey."

"Do you know any of his friends, the kids that I don't know?" Joey continued, remembering flicking through Craig's cell phone contact list and seeing names and phone numbers that were unfamiliar.

"He has friends I don't even know. I mean we're all close the four us; Ash, Craig, El, and I…but we've got other friends too," Sean searched his mind. "Did you try Marco or Spinner?"

"He wouldn't go there," Ellie sullenly piped up.

"What about Ashley's? He'd try to get to her," Joey realized and pulled out his cell phone.

"They broke up," Ellie interrupted Joey's punching of numbers. She watched as he flipped the phone closed. "Her parents…not cool with what went down at the party."

"What?"

"He didn't tell you? But I mean, it just happened so…" Ellie trailed off.

Joey was quiet, realizing how brutal his silent treatment had to be for the kid just going through his first break up. Of course Craig wouldn't tell him. He wasn't exactly being approachable. Joey sighed. Hearing that Ellie added hopefully, "Maybe he'll come back here. Want to wait around for a little while?"

Joey silently debated this. "I think I'm going to do another sweep of the area. Maybe check out a few of his hang outs. If you hear anything, please give me a call."

Sean nodded, taking the scrap of paper from Joey with his cell and work number on it.

"If you see him around…will you just tell him that we'll work things out?" Joey encouraged, the guilt weighing him down. There was the sadness too, so heavy it made it hard for him to walk out the front door. Joey stared around the black night, wondering where his son was and when he would come home.

**

* * *

  
**

It wasn't until Monday morning that Craig fully realized what he had done. It was easy to tell himself on Friday or Saturday night that he had just lied to Joey about where he was staying. It had been working. That subtle deception his brain allowed him to do until he had enough to drink where he didn't care what house, city, or province he was in. His stomach ached at the thought of alcohol but in the next thought he craved a beer even though he had barely been awake for an hour and it was no where near night time, happy hour, or hell even noon.

Craig hadn't planned on drinking. He was sure no one would believe him if he told them that. He had held out for awhile, occupying himself with a painful debate on if he wanted that vodka shot or not. His hands began to sweat some once he saw the liquor bottle. Fighting to keep his hands from shaking, he took the shot glass. The liquor went down, he remembered being painfully ill in the hospital, and struggled to keep from gagging. He felt it come up in his throat some and he swallowed hard. His hands began to sweat and he glanced around at the expressions on his friends face, some amused and others more observant, maybe a little concerned. Then he was going up, his brain like an elevator clicking off each of the floors. Up, up, up.

The weekend had been foggy, him shuffling along beside Luke as they hit a few parties before returning to his place to crash. There was this weirdness nipping at his heels whenever they were at his home. He couldn't quite place it; it moved around too much. Maybe it was seeing his friend interact with his parents and little sister the morning after. He was sure he was the same way around Joey and Angie. They had that performance down to a perfection. He remember Joey's face as he realized how often he had been partying and found all the liquor bottles in his room. And the pills. Craig rubbed his forehead like he could erase the guilt. Everything was fine.

It's fine, he told himself into the bathroom mirror. The shower had sobered him up quite a bit and the details of the room were coming more into focus. He noticed what brand of toothpaste Luke's family used, where the hand soap was, even the flowers on counter. He was careful not to leave the towels on the floor and made sure everything was in place. He wasn't at home. With Joey.

Maybe it was the family thing that was getting to him. The argument was forming in his brain again as he tried to define what one was. He had to give Sauvé credit; he heard her voice first. It was sounding a bit textbook and a lot like his social worker's as the voice encouraged him to accept Joey as family. Well that was gone. He left that like he left his dad's. Maybe his father was right about him leaving like his mother. "Well, everyone leaves," he reasoned quietly to himself and went for the door, hair wet from a shower.

He could smell the breakfast being cooked downstairs. Luke's mother had awakened them early, telling them to get up for school. "Where are you going to go?" Luke asked as he watched Craig gather some clothes off the floor and stuff them into his backpack.

"I, uh, haven't figured that all out yet. Do you think I can crash here again tonight?"

"Give me a call. My parents are bound to find out I'm flunking history one of these days."

"Yeah. Okay," Craig rapidly agreed. Things were getting real. He wasn't going to school. He had no idea where he was going to spend the day, let alone the night. Craig lifted his gaze up from the floor and saw that his friend was watching him. Even Luke, the guy who had to be stoned to do his math homework, was getting concerned about him.

"You were talking in your sleep last night. I almost woke you up."

"What? What was I saying?" Craig questioned, fingers on his lips. Things were starting to move faster in his brain. Calm down, he told himself. "Well uh, we were high and watching horror movies. I think my dreams were kind of messed up."

He occasionally had out there dreams; violent and dark. He certainly still dreamt about his dad, sometimes his mom. But the strange story his sleeping brain produced was a wild one. The police officer didn't believe him when he said that his mother kept coming back. But instead of replying that she had passed away, he just accused him of being behind her death. The last time he saw her, emerging from a dark room and twisting like the ghosts in horror movies do. He was starting to think that she believed what they were saying. Maybe he was involved with her death. Then he was in the room with him and witnessing his father's final night. There was the gun and the blood, on the walls and on his hands. He was guilty.

"Are you sure you weren't dreaming about that chick you did Saturday night?" Luke said with a smirk.

"What?" Craig asked, snapping out of his trance. "I still don't believe you about that. I mean, come on, I'd remember." Craig watched as his friend just laughed.

"You don't remember anything? I mean I even saw you two making out on the couch. She's that girl. She's in media immersion. Did that one presentation on independent record labels. What the hell is her name again? Anyway more than one person said that you two went upstairs together."

The night was in fragments. A song here, a darkened room there. He could almost remember how pale her skin was in the moonlight while she was on top of him. "I think we had an awesome time."

"Well, she's had practice. Maybe you should learn her name for when she says hi to you in class. Or you know, after the STD test and the doc tells you that you should call your partners."

"You're hilarious!" Craig replied as they headed downstairs for breakfast.

Craig was quiet while he ate, becoming tense whenever the word 'school' was dropped. He almost dropped his fork when Luke's mother offered them a ride to school.

"Uh, no. We're taking the bus," Luke was quick to explain and soon after they hurried out the door.

"So I'll call you after school and check to see if I stay the night?" Craig asked at the bus stop.

"Uh yeah. But you might want to call around and find another place to crash. I mean, my mom didn't think anything of the weekend. But she's going to find it weird if it's another night, Craig."

"Yeah. Yeah, that makes sense," Craig replied and reflected on how he tensed up whenever the phone rang. He was always expecting that knock at the door. While thankful that his cell phone contacts existed of first names and random nicknames, he wondered why Joey hadn't figured it out yet. Was he even trying? Craig almost shook his head at that thought, trying to empty the worry from his head.

"Not your bus?" Luke said, almost sounding like he was offering as he boarded the one headed towards Degrassi Community School.

It all felt real in that moment when he realized he had no place to go. He didn't have a place lined up to crash at tonight and that made him inhale sharply, feeling a little panicked. He wasn't sure why it didn't feel real or have a label until now. He realized it now; he ran away from home. It didn't seem that way at the time but 48 hours later he realized what he had done. What was Joey doing? He probably called the cops. There was going to be consequences to this, major ones, he feared. Especially with his most recent hospital stay. Craig shook his head at that. Joey wasn't putting him in a place like that. He'd stay out here before that happened.

"Uh no. That's my bus," Craig replied and gestured to the bus approaching in the other lane and would take him in the opposite direction of school.

**

* * *

  
**

The long term solution didn't hit him until a few days later. He needed to stop off for cash. The driver, cousin to Evie or friend of Evie's cousin (Craig didn't pay much attention to the ride he was bumming), seemed annoyed by the request but stopped off anyway. Craig pulled out his debit card from his wallet, glancing back at the car. Three out of four were smoking a cigarette although he couldn't be sure if a joint wasn't being passed around. Craig's foot started to bop, anxious for the cash to be in his hands. Finally he had someplace to go, a plan. It came to him during a get together last night.

"_Hello?" Evie cautiously answered after glancing at the name on the cell phone screen. She giggled and hung up. "That was not Craig Manning."_

"_Don't answer your phone!" Craig scolded. "Joey has mine. He's probably like calling every contact. Shit. Shit."_

"_Relax. I don't get involved in domestic disputes," she replied, passing the joint. _

_Craig inhaled deeply, held the smoke in, and exhaled slowly. He opened his eyes and said, "You guys can't tell him where I'm at. Just until I can figure out where I should go," Craig replied and it came to him. B.C. For a moment he felt like he was that same scared little boy back in grade 9 with nowhere to go. He had wanted to go to Joey's. Now he was at Joey's…not his father. His mind circled and all the names seemed to take a beating on his brain. "I have no idea what I'm doing."_

_At least he had an idea now of where he wanted to go. That gave him some comfort. Now he just had to get away from where he was presently. The restraint was as quick and strong as his breath. One moment it came in and the next it was gone. Just let go, he told himself and tilted his head back for the shot._

His hands almost weren't steady enough to punch in his PIN number. Then there was the machine screen with it's generic type asking him how much he wanted to withdrawal. Craig chewed his finger nail some, not having any recollection on his debit card's limit. He decided to go for the jackpot and try for $500. "Account not able to be accessed at this time." Swipe of the card, punch of the numbers, and then he tried to withdrawal $400. Access denied. $300, $200, $100 - denied.

Craig nearly let out a sob. Something was wrong. He began to work his way down in $10 increments. At first he feared he was stupid enough not to keep track of his balance and blew nearly all his cash on party supplies for his blow out.

"It's not right. Something's not right," He mumbled to himself and started to fish through his wallet. Receipt from the bank after his last withdrawal. He still had five hundred some bucks.

"Manning, what the hell?" he heard someone call out.

"Just a minute," Craig yelled back. One more try. He angrily swiped his card, punched in his pin with force, and requested $200. He could come back tomorrow and get the rest. He could make this work. Access denied. Craig slapped the brick wall of the building, not sharing that the impact and cold stung his hand. He started breathing so heavily that his surroundings started to warp. Shakily he approached his friend's car.

"Can I use your cell?" Craig asked, leaning up against the cracked window.

"I thought you were just getting cash? Let's go. Party awaits."

"Just a minute, okay? I just need to make a call." His friend hesitated, sighed, then passed over the phone.

Craig headed back towards the ATM but settled into the space of some sandwich joint and an electronics store. He faced the wall, not the car with Evie and her friends in it. Tears were threatening now. His plan, his safety net, had dropped as soon as he thought he had one.

"Sean?" Craig questioned and didn't wait for the confirmation. He knew the sound of his voice. "You can't tell Joey I'm calling you. He…froze my bank accounts. I can't get at my money. It's mine. I don't know how he can do that."

"Hey. Hey, slow down," Sean encouraged.

"I mean that had to be what happened. When I left he called the banks and froze everything. How can that happen? He's not my dad; he can't do that."

"Well he is your guardian."

"I'm so sick of him trying to be my dad. He's not," Craig couldn't explain the anger. "Mine is dead. He offed himself. I'm…I just want to get away."

"What do you mean?"

"I wanted to use it to go to BC," Craig explained and Sean heard his friend's voice cracking, like he was trying not to cry.

"What's there?"

"It's not here?" Craig tried to reason and then was silent for a moment. "Look, I just have to get away from this mess. I can't fix it. So fuck it, right? I think I might have enough for a bus ticket in cash. Or I can get that."

"And then what happens? You blow all your cash and end up on the streets of Vancouver, if you even make it that far."

"Why aren't you on my side?"

"I am," Sean reassured, bewildered by the accusation. Something in Craig has shifted over the past few weeks. He was used to the mood swings and quick decisions. But things had changed, escalated. "Do you want to come over? Spend the night? I won't call Joey."

Craig watched as a passenger of the car waved their hand, signaling for him to wrap up the phone call. "He probably stops by all the time huh? I can't take that chance. Look, I'll be fine."

"Where are you staying tonight? Craig."

"I'm really sorry about all this," Craig said, his voice distant and then he clicked off the cell.

He stayed quiet for the rest of the ride, glad that the music was so loud that they couldn't hear his heavy breathing. He stared intently out the window but didn't see the buildings that flew by. He almost felt tears threaten again but quickly told himself to shut off. He took a deep breath and held it for a moment, then let go. Just let go.

**

* * *

  
**

"I had a plan. I actually had a plan. I wanted to drain my bank account and head to B.C. Vancouver. Maybe head down to Seattle, L.A eventually. Play gigs or something. Maybe actually make it," Craig mumbled dreamily and started up at the spots of light above his head. He watched as fingers tore through the cloud of smoke and he realized it was glow in the dark stick on stars and strings of Christmas lights.

"I just want to do things on my own. Make things simple again. It's not working here. I know I don't' have a lot of money. I mean not enough to make it last but it could work. I could have hit the ATM and maxed out the deposits. I could have had my cash and split."

"What?" Evie asked, struggling to sit up and lean over him. Craig batted her hair out of his eyes and gasped a little at the weight of her arm on his chest.

"I said I wanted to go to B.C."

"Oh. So why don't you?" She asked and took another hit off the joint. Craig watched as the tip burned bright as she inhaled.

"I can't get at my cash. Joey froze me out of my own account," he explained and finished off his beer. "I'm going to try for it anyway, I think."

"Here. Have a smoke and think it over for tonight," the girl replied and passed over the joint. Craig noticed how numb his fingers felt and how it was hard to keep his vision focused. He was afraid he would drop it. After taking a hit he passed the joint back and took a sip from his pint of vodka.

"I didn't even really think about what happened. Just started drinking again. Do you know about what happened?"

"Not from you. I heard you had your stomach pumped. Oded. Again."

"Again?" Craig questioned. Then he was aware of the stories that probably circulated about him.

Evie waved her hand to dismiss what she just said. "Sorry. Didn't mean it like that. Didn't mean to say that out loud. You are thinking too much, talking too much."

"Where were you when it was happening? When I passed out and people started freaking," Craig pressed, strangely self-aware for his intoxicated state. It was that kind of buzz that made it safe to talk.

"Who knows. I think I moved onto another party, another boy, by then."

"They would think it's wrong that I'm drinking again so soon. They would talk about choices and responsibility and addiction and statistics and fathers who kill themselves and …and did you know that they actually thought it'd help if I went to some grieving camp. They have horses."

"What? That sounds really creepy."

"I know!"

"So you sit around the campfire with all these orphans and talk about your dead parents while these camp counselors with their smiles and bleeding hearts tell you it's okay to cry?"

"Yeah. With horses. I don't even like horses."

Evie started laughing uncontrollably at that. "With horses."

"I don't want to do any more thinking tonight," Craig decided, taking the final hit off the joint. Then after he exhaled he stated, "Nothing more tonight."

"I'll drink to that," Evie replied, sitting up and searching for her pint of Rum. She took a shot and felt Craig reach for it, his fingers on hers.

"I thought you didn't share your liquor."

"I don't," she said, then took a shot, held it in her mouth, and gestured for him to move in. Craig smiled a little and then pressed his open mouth against hers, letting the liquid and her tongue into his mouth. It was by no means his first shot of the evening so the liquor didn't burn as it rolled around in his mouth. He closed his mouth to swallow, his lips still on hers. They eased back down on the bed together, mouths still on each other and hands roaming.

"I don't think you are even real," Craig murmured into neck. It was strange how he kept having these moments where he felt like he was the only one left in the world since he left home. It was his choice and he felt stupid for feeling so lonely now and needing some kind, any kind, of warmth.

"Of course I'm real," Evie said with a giggle, toying with the buckle of his belt.

"Oh okay, then I'm not real."

"You are real," she reassured with a kiss. He kissed her back, harder, flicking his tongue into her mouth.

"Prove it. Make me feel anything."

Craig let out a content sigh at the sensation of her hand between his legs. He was quick to return the favor, removing his hand from the inside of her shirt, his fingers trailing down her stomach, under her skirt, and slipping between her legs. Their breathing became heavier; their movements more frenzied, humping, thrusting, and enjoying each other's bodies. Then Evie replaced her hand with her mouth. He deserved to feel good, even if it was only a temporary fix.

**

* * *

  
**

Craig woke up slowly, the confusion felt thick. It always did when he drank to that point of passing out. Waking up was always a surprise; he wasn't sure if it was because he didn't remember falling asleep or that he wasn't sure if he'd wake up. The blackness of a dreamless sleep was nice. It took him a moment to look around, unsure of where he was. He wasn't even sure of the day. That was the mind fuck when you started drinking before nightfall; the unnatural messing of hours when the sun did set and you passed out somewhere in between. The music from the party downstairs pounded through the closed door. Craig propped himself up on his elbows but the spinning threw him back down onto the bed.

"Okay, okay," he mumbled to himself and tried to sort through the facts. He ran his hands over his body. Dressed but pants unbuttoned. The puzzle pieces were mentally lining up. "Evie?"

No reply. "Oh okay," Craig said in response. "Thanks for the time. You better not have taken my vodka with you."

Craig haphazardly crawled around on the bed, nearly taking a tumble to the floor once. He dug around, tossing a few of the many pillows to the floor. He found his pint of liquor buried under them. The sip of vodka stung this time, signaling that sleep had worn off some of his buzz. He hated that. It was funny how people thought that the point the drank himself to was dangerous when he felt like the point of coming back from there was.

"I'm sorry I let everyone down though," Craig mumbled aloud to himself or maybe as an apology to the people who weren't there. Or maybe to God, although he had stopped praying somewhere in between the beatings his father would dish out and his death by self inflicted gun shot wound to the head.

"I don't want to think about you right now. You said that I left, Mom left, but we didn't do what you did." Craig paused, his breathing heavy as he laid there still in some stranger's bed. It actually felt good to say it out loud.

"I'm too much like you. You got all freaking weird about family, wanting to keep me there even though you treated me like you couldn't stand to look at me. Look at what I did to Joey. And it's not like I'm doing any of this because I don't care. It's the opposite," Craig murmured to himself, his words soft and slurred.

"I ruined it with Ashley too. And her family. I meant it when I asked her what it would be like if we got married. And we were all a family. Her uptight mom, gay dads, and the stepfather that doesn't belong to her. Because stepfathers don't. But her family…it seems normal."

Through his intoxicated fog he remember having dinner with the Kerwin-Isaacs that first time. How freakishly scared he was of everything and how she wasn't. It was because he still lived with his dad. Which was why he cringed when Ashley let the front door slam even though Jeff barely had a response. Craig turned down Ashley's stereo too, certain that someone was going to become upset.

His father hated noise. He never knew why. He only knew that the psycho would sometimes storm into his room in the middle of the night and demand to know what he'd dropped on the floor. Most of the time he hadn't made any noise at all and sometimes was startled out of sleep. Not that it just applied to the night. He once held onto a painfully hot bowl because the burn would be better than dropping it and being hit for it. He still found himself doing things like that. He recalled how he did it at Joey's once, who could only demand out of concern _"Why would you do that?"_

He hated how it took him weeks to adjust to eating a meal at Joey's house, simply because he wasn't used to the candid talking and actually feeling safe. Now his stomach didn't ache all through dinner. Did he finally have what Ashley had with her family? Ashley felt comfortable at her house. She had the perfect life, the perfect family. What the hell was she doing with him anyway?

"I wreck everything. With her. But it's not because of Evie," Craig realized. "Because Ash and I…Ash and I…Ash and I are broken up. Because her parents hate me."

His drunken revelations, the mashed up recollections of his past and mixed up feelings, brought him to his feet. It took him a moment to get used the gravity and he stumbled a bit, nearly falling into a bookshelf. His vision was slowly starting to piece itself back together.

"I want a family like that. Her family is normal. As normal as one can be. I don't want Joey and Caitlin. I don't want substitutions because they think that the orphan needs a place to stay. I want a family," Craig argued with the empty room. "I can fix this. I have to see Ashley."

He wasn't sure how long it took him to walk to her house, weaving some as he walked. He paused once to vomit in the street, kneeling down on some stranger's yard. He glanced up when the heaves were over and was relieved there wasn't faces peering out of the windows, watching him as he lost what dignity he had left. His only consolation was that he didn't make that big of a mess because he hadn't eaten all day, was still too drunk to really taste the vodka the second time around, and wasn't even humbled by the experience too much. _You're drunk_, he told himself as he dug around in his backpack for some gum. He was sure he reeked like a puked out alcoholic.

She deserves so much better, he thought as he rang the doorbell. It felt like a scene out of movie; this wasn't happening to him.

"Hi," Craig mumbled to Toby and barely acknowledged his shocked expression.

"Craig. What are you doing here?" Toby questioned, glancing around for his parents and Ashley.

"Ashley."

"She's not here right now," Toby lied and hoped Craig would take the bait and leave before his Dad and Kate would see him like this. He steadied Craig as he stumbled a few feet into the house.

"I just…I need to see Ashley. I could wait for her. I was just thinking about you guys anyway. You really are lucky."

"Okay," Toby responded after a moment.

"I mean…I just was thinking about how you guys really are the perfect family," Craig slurred after Jeff and Kate cautiously approached. Jeff warily encouraged his son away and placed a firm hand under the drunken teen's elbow to support him. "I thought Joey's was but…well I ruined that. I don't want to ruin this too."

"Who's at the…" Ashley stopped dead half-way down the stairs. Besides for having smelled the alcohol from across the room, his appearance gave it away. He looked horrible with dark circles under his eyes, face pale except for his flushed cheeks. He could barely stand on his own, she realized when she saw how Craig was slumped against Jeff.

"Ashley, I need you," Craig called out.

Ashley didn't move any closer. She stood on the stairs, clutching the banister.

"Please?" Craig tried again.

"Craig, you need to rest right now. You can talk to Ashley later," Kate said, slowly, unsure of what to do. She should want to keep the teenage runaway here but at the same time, the alcohol had made him impulsive. Wild. Out of control.

"I know you don't like me. I know you don't want me around. But it's not up to you. Ashley?"

"Craig, I'm going to call Joey and we'll have him come over and pick you up okay. You aren't feeling well," Jeff tried to say as calmly as possible. He still kept a grip on the boy as he was beginning to wonder if he could be dangerous.

"I know you don't want me around her. I know you don't want me as part of your family."

"No one has said anything like that," Kate said.

"You don't want me around her. Because I'm a mess. Because of what my dad did. Because I don't have a family."

"Craig, we all like you and care about you. That's why I'm going to call Joey. Because we care about you," Kate reassured, the telephone in her hands.

"No. You don't have to call Joey," Craig said, jerking out of Jeff's grasp and then slapped the doorframe with his hand.

"You need to calm down," Jeff said firmly and took Craig by the shoulder, not trusting this kid at all.

"Hello Joey. This is Kate Kerwin. Craig is here right now," Kate spoke into the receiver. "He's…"

"No. No, I'm supposed to be a part of this," Craig interrupted with tears in his eyes. The rejection cut him deep. They didn't want him here. "I just want to have a family. I want to have what your family has. I want your family."

Craig didn't see their bewildered stares. Toby had to look away, embarrassed for Craig. He was making such a scene. Ashley was still and quiet. She found that her mind was completely blank besides for the occasional panicked thought that this guy was like a stranger. Craig had done some crazy things, things that confused her but she struggled to understand and meet him on some common ground. There was no way she should justify tonight to her mother.

"Why are you calling Joey? No. I don't want to leave you, Ashley. You are everything. We could have everything," Craig desperately reasoned.

"You can talk to Ashley tomorrow, when you are sober and when you are calm," Jeff said.

Craig jerked away from him. He stared at Ashley for a moment, pleading with his eyes. Why wouldn't she say anything? Why wasn't she telling her mother that he wasn't as bad as she thought? Craig opened the front door and took a few steps out. "Ash?" He prompted, expecting her to want to follow. Together they make it. Take off for Vancouver where they would play gigs in smoky bars and spend nights together in their own place.

Why wasn't she saying anything? "Fine. I don't care about anyone anyway," he declared.

Craig turned around and delivered a final message, "I don't need your family anyway. I don't need a family."

**

* * *

  
**

Caitlin stood up at the sound of the front door opening. While Joey was at the Kerwin/Isaacs, she had tried to prepare herself for Craig's return home. She hated to admit it but the teenager scared her. He wasn't a little boy throwing temper tantrums; he was a sixteen year old who towered at nearly 6 feet tall and couldn't control himself. It was like she returned home to a stranger.

"Where's Craig?" she questioned at the sight of only Joey. She watched as her boyfriend began to pace the floor. He hadn't even removed his coat, like he was contemplating going out again.

"I don't know. He was gone by the time I got there. I swear I just missed him by a few minutes. I swear. We drove around the neighborhood and looked for him but I couldn't find him."

"I'm sorry, Joey," Caitlin replied. She didn't mean for just tonight however. They were both feeling that guilt. At the moment she wished he hadn't encouraged hospitalization. She should have encouraged it when she knew Craig couldn't hear. Or not at all; the idea of being placed in a psychiatric ward would be scary to anyone.

"He had been drinking," Joey stated and still tried to wrap his mind around that one. "I don't know how someone can drink after they nearly kill themselves with it. You'd think it would make him sick. Does a person get intoxicated more quickly after something like that? And what if he doesn't realize that he can't drink like he used to?"

"Let's call around to local hospitals," Caitlin encouraged and went for the list of phone numbers on the fridge.

"You're right. You're right," Joey agreed and picked up the phone. It took him a moment to punch in the first number. He wasn't ready for this. The call from the hospital a few nights before had stunned him. Now there was just dread. "Please don't let this happen again," he whispered to himself.

"Do you have a patient at your facility named Craig Manning? This is his father. He ran away from home and there was a sighting of him tonight. He was intoxicated. I'm concerned about how much he might have had to drink."

Joey listened to the sound of keyboard typing, paper shuffling, and the sounds of the hospital in the distance.

"I'm sorry we haven't had anyone admitted here under that name. Can you describe him? Age? Physical description?"

"He's 16, short brown hair, brown eyes. He's tall, 5'11," maybe six feet tall. Average build, on the slender side. He was last seen wearing blue jeans and a black leather jacket with a black hoodie underneath. Converse sneakers."

Joey was getting used to giving that description; to the police when he'd filed the missing persons report and then during the first round of phone calls he made to hospitals when Craig had gone missing. It was all routine to them and there he was with his heart beating out of his chest. The police officer had sent him home with brochures on runaways and at-risk youth. _"They usually return home on their own," the cop had reassured. "Inform the school that Craig ran away from home and get in contact with his friends. Try to pass a message onto him that he can call home and you'll try to work things out. Let him know he's not in trouble. A lot of the youth are intimidated by that first confrontation when they arrive home."_

His nerves were fried by the final hospital call. "We do have an adolescent male currently being treated for intoxication," a nurse confirmed.

"You do? Craig? Is it him?" Joey wasn't sure if he was feeling relief because there was a chance they found him or fear for his wellbeing. Which would bet the better outcome?

"We haven't gotten a name out of him yet. No identification. Does Craig has any noticeable traits? Scars, piercings, or tattoos?"

"No…none."

"This young man has a eyebrow piercing."

"It's not Craig," Joey confirmed, feeling a mix of relief and disappointment. There was a part of him that wanted it to be him, just so he knew where he was. "Thank you for your time."

Joey clicked off the phone, tossed it on the coffee table, and sank down onto the couch. He was exhausted but knew that sleep wasn't an option. He hadn't been able to sleep more than 2 hours each night. He'd lay there in bed, staring at the ceiling, and running down a mental list of things that could have happened to his son. With friends; kids he didn't know, kids that ran with a faster crowd and would see no harm in supplying Craig with alcohol or the pills he had found in Craig's room (the ones he barely knew anything about) . Kids who would be afraid to call for an ambulance and leave him to choke on his vomit. Then he would silently pray that Craig was at Sean's and his buddy was just protecting him. He knew from the many times he'd drive by Cameron's that this likely wasn't the case. Then there was the streets. The idea of Craig sleeping in an alley would bring him to his feet and then he started pacing, from the kitchen window to the living room, glancing out the window to check for the teen each time, half expecting him to be standing across the street and hesitant to approach the front door. Craig didn't have the street smarts to survive. He couldn't even begin to imagine the runaways his son would meet up with; kids who grew up fast with the crime and violence on the streets. And the situations Craig could find himself in (Joey fought with this thought)…situations that would break him. He tried to block out the horror stories he'd seen on the internet or on a news special.

"I just want him home," Joey whispered as Caitlin sat down next to him and nuzzled her face into his shoulder.

"We all do."

"If I could just talk to him. One conversation."

Caitlin nodded and ran her fingertips over Joey's arm and then squeezed her boyfriend's hand. "What went down at the Kerwins, aside for him being drunk?"

"He got a little bit physical again, although there was no more punching at walls, thank God. He scared them quite a bit I think. I had to reassure Kate that he's not a danger to them or stalking them. He was talking about how he wants a family with them or Ashley…not me, apparently," Joey said and felt the tears build up in eyes. He wasn't sure anyone had ever hurt him this badly before. When he found out Craig had ran away, he swore a part of him died inside.

"He doesn't mean it like that. He was drunk, he probably doesn't even know what he was saying."

Joey nodded, but didn't give a response. He bowed his head down and began to silently pray that Craig was somewhere safe, someplace warm, and away from people who would be quick to give him more drugs and alcohol.

**

* * *

  
**

Craig could feel the blood crashing around in his head, making him faint. He paused and leaned up against the wall of a local business. He barely saw the people rushing by him, hurrying to make it to their jobs. They didn't notice him either. He squeezed his eyes shut, wanting this feeling to fade and the harsh sunlight gone. What was wrong? His hands were trembling violently and he rubbed his clammy palms on his jeans before pulling open the door to the convenience store. His insides felt like they were jumping around. It wasn't nerves, he decided. His head was too light and his mind too far away to be nervous about anything. The trembling started in his torso and seemed to vibrate out, his limbs going weak. It was almost a relief to sink down to the ground and he took a couple bags of potato chips with him.

"Hey. Hey, kid are you okay?"

"Huh? Oh yeah, I'm fine," Craig mumbled, trying to focus on the brightly colored food packages in the aisles and then the source of the voice. "Jean," her employee name card read. She was middle-aged, probably with kids of her own and probably had an eventful morning before she even got to work. "I'm sorry. Sorry."

That was all he was saying lately; sorry.

"Are you hungry? I'll get you something to eat."

Craig pulled himself up off the floor on his own and followed the store clerk over to a section of the store where there was a small cluster of tables. He sank down into one and the pounding in his head lessened. "I think I forgot to eat today," Craig mumbled in response.

Jean nodded at him and sat a hot dog down in front of him, then nachos and cheese, and a fountain soda followed. Craig hungrily shoveled the food into his mouth and swore it was the best meal he'd had in awhile. He wasn't sure why he wasn't eating lately. Part of it was that it was an inconvenience to some of the houses he crashed at. He'd gone to fellow students at Degrassi who he knew wouldn't rat him out, usually because they could see themselves in that situation and wanted to help. Sometimes he got lucky and the parents didn't care that it was a school night and he was invited to sleep over. If he was blessed he got that and arrived before dinner time and got a free meal. Otherwise it was sneaking in late at night and sleeping on the bedroom floor, rising at least an hour before the parents got up so he could sneak back out. And during the day when he roamed the streets, he didn't dare go into many grocery stores. During school hours, he stood out like a sore thumb. After school, he was sure someone would see him. When he did go in to grab a sandwich or soup from the deli, he kept his head down at all times. He felt anxious sure but there was something else. Something hard in between his heart and stomach. Maybe it was guilt. Or regret. What was he doing?

"What's your name?" Jean asked, after she poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down across from the teenager.

"Craig," he replied and licked cheese off his finger. He could feel his blood sugar level evening out now, the calories and nutrients flowing into him. He wasn't shaking so violently. She was looking at him strange. It was that look, the one people like doctors and nurses gave him. Curious and concerned, expecting answers.

"I have money," Craig reassured and started to pull bills out of his pockets. A few slipped from his shaky hands and he retrieved them from the floor and set them on the table. He suddenly realized what he must look like, nearly passing out on the floor of a gas station midmorning of a school day.

"Is there anyone you want me to call?"

"Uh, no. I'll be fine, really. I'm really sorry about bothering you."

"It's alright. Slow day. Everyone is at work…or school."

Craig shifted uncomfortably, she knew how young he was and where he should be. He didn't want to answer any more questions. "Um, where's the bathroom?"

He watched as Jean gestured to a corridor off to his right. "Thanks," he replied and quickly ducked inside.

Craig scrubbed at his face and hands. He knew he had to look a mess from going without a shower and spending the night in a city park but he wasn't expecting to see himself this disheveled in the mirror. He had dark circles under his eyes and he feared he might smell like the liquor from the night before. "I have no idea what I'm doing," he mumbled to his reflection.

It was moments like this where he was aware of what he was doing. Those moments were sneaking up on him more often. There was the morning a day or two ago when Luke woke him up at what seemed like hours before the sun was up, mumbling about how his father had some big meeting with accountants or lawyers and he had to be out before Dad went down for his usual cup of coffee. Craig agreed and Luke had apologized at the door. It was just that he flunked yet another history quiz and his parents were on his case, Luke explained and then reached for the coat rack, going for the hat and gloves tucked in his winter coat as some kind of consolation. It was then that Craig realized he took things too far. What he did, it wasn't bad grades or getting caught out after curfew. Craig knew he was in deeper than that.

"But I don't know how to fix it," Craig mumbled, still having a conversation with his mirror reflection.

He opened his backpack and dug through it for a clean shirt. He began to shiver without his coat on and decided to pile on as many layers as he could. He was glad the liquor kept him warm last night but now that was draining and he realized how cold and sore he was from his uncomfortable sleeping spot. He glanced at his watch and sighed. Where was he going to go for the rest of the day?

Keep moving, he guessed as he exited the bathroom. That was the best distraction and gave him the feeling like he had some direction, even if at the end of the day he ended up nowhere close to where he wanted to be. He gave a little wave to Jean, behind the store counter now. There was no way for him to avoid her.

"Thanks again," Craig mumbled.

"Here's your change," she said and Craig took the money from her. He'd totally forgotten about the bills he'd thrown on the counter earlier. He glanced over the bills and saw a card tucked in between. He glanced it over; a hotline for a runaway foundation and the address of some center or shelter.

"Thanks…thanks again," Craig mumbled and managed to give her a smile, forced and he didn't show his teeth. He had to do something to hide what was going on. A part of him still thought she was wrong about that. This couldn't still be happening; it was so surreal.

**

* * *

  
**

Once he knew that school let out, Craig shut himself into a phone booth and began the usual task of finding a place to stay at. It was the usual. _"Come on. Look, I'll sleep in your basement, bathroom." "I won't come by until late. You don't have to tell your parents. They won't have to call up Joey." _That one often lead to _"I won't let you get in trouble over this." _

He sighed after the fifth attempt. It was just his first week out here. What would the next be like? He hadn't thought of that at the time. He pulled the card from that runaway foundation out of his pocket and dialed the number. The sequence of numbers felt foreign and the strangers voice on the line spooked him. He couldn't get one word out and quickly hung up. He wasn't a runaway anyway. That wasn't for him.

He found himself dialing Joey's work number, not sure of what to say but thought it might be nice to hear the guys voice. Something familiar.

"Jeremiah Motors. How can I help you?" Joey greeted with fake cheer. It was odd to him how life just carried on and he had to be the smiling salesmen to patrons who didn't know that his son ran away from home.

Craig couldn't speak. Joey sounded like he was doing fine without him.

"How can I help you?" Joey repeated.

Craig hung up before he heard Joey frantically question on the other end "Craig?"

He found himself calling Ashley's home next. He needed to apologize, offer an explanation…hell find out what happened. It seemed like every time he tried to make something right, he just dug himself in deeper. Why did he do that? What was wrong with him where everything he touched went bad, like he was spreading some disease around. His own family was so close to him that they died. His own crazy was building up in his social circle, stressing his friends out.

"Ashley, I'm so sorry for last night. I don't know what happened," Craig said the moment he heard her voice.

"Craig!" Ashley proclaimed and watched as he mother got up from the couch. "Are you okay?"

"I don't know. I don't know how all this happened. I don't know what to do. I don't have a place to crash tonight," He heard the sound of the phone being shuffled but he said that last part anyway. It gave him some relief, in an odd way.

"How are you doing, Craig?" Kate asked.

Craig's breath came in sharp. Bits and pieces of last night came to him. Why was she being nice to him now? She shouldn't be nice.

Kate listened to the silence on the other end of the line. At least he didn't hang up. So she continued, "A lot of people care about you and want you to come home. Your friends miss seeing you at school. Joey, Caitlin, and Angie love you and want you to come home."

"I'm really sorry," Craig apologized and his voice cracked some.

"It's okay, Craig. Just tell me where you are at," Kate encouraged as she stared at the number on the caller ID. Just a number, no name or location. Pay phone, she wondered to herself.

"I didn't mean for last night to happen."

"There's still time to fix this. All you have to do is to go home to Joey."

"I messed everything up."

"Can you give Joey a call? I'm sure he'd love to hear from you."

Craig hung up the phone. The answer was simple and he knew it. Go home. Why couldn't he get himself to do that? He was startled by the phone jangling. He let it ring several times and then picked it up, not saying a word.

"Craig? Craig, let's talk some more. You said you didn't have a place to stay tonight. How about you come over here?"

It was Kate's voice. He didn't think, just felt touched by this moment. Even a little eager. "You mean you want me around?"

"Yes. Head on over. We're having burgers and macaroni and cheese for dinner. It'll be just like the times when you'd be over. And then we'll all talk."

The suspicion was sneaking in. She was trying to trick him. And how did she know the number to call? Craig frantically glanced around, looking for any familiar cars. "You'll have Joey there. And he's…" Craig cut himself off but silently finished "going to be angry at me or put me in the hospital."

"You don't have to think about that right now. Just think about this as steps and right now we just want you here with us, where it's safe."

"How did you know this number to call me? Are you tracing the call? You are all working together!" Craig accused and pulled the phone away from his ear. He couldn't get himself to hang it up, trying several times.

"We are working together to help you. We all care about you," he barely heard Kate's soft voice.

Craig shook his head and hung up the phone at that. She didn't mean that. She's the one who wanted Ashley to break up with him. If she cared she wouldn't have done that. It was a trick, he thought as he pulled open the phone booth door. He took off running at high speed, darting into the nearest alley.

**

* * *

  
**

Joey felt like he had been on an emotional rollercoaster all night. The phone kept ringing and it took force to not greet each caller with Craig's name. It was never him. Once it was a friend, a kid he had never even met, who introduced himself and let him know that Craig called him and he was okay. Joey could only ask him to let Craig know that he wasn't in trouble and he wanted him home. He was sure he sounded like he was pleading like someone's life was at stake.

Kate Kerwin's call gave him hope. She had a number he was calling from. It took a little detective work and they had the number traced to a location. So he headed out the door, barely remembering to give Angie a quick kiss goodbye, ready to patrol the streets. This was it. He knew it had to be. He could track him down this time. He wasn't sure what Craig's reaction would be when he saw him but he had to try to find him.

He had Caitlin's cell, which rang when she had an update. Each time he questioned if Craig called home, fearful that he made the wrong choice to hit the streets and search; he should have remained at home and waited for that call. Craig was reaching out to them. His girlfriend then had to deliver the news that no, Craig hadn't called. But Sean did, informing them that Craig called and he offered to let him stay at his place. But he refused. Caitlin recited exactly what Sean said, disturbed by it, _"He won't come over, it's like he's convinced that there's some plot against him." "I just want him home," _Joey replied, baffled by Craig's paranoia.

It was hard to head home and he pulled up into the driveway heavy with defeat. He must have circled that block with the payphone thirty times and combed through the neighborhood. He stopped his car in alleys and called out Craig's name. It was difficult to realize that if Craig was out there, he probably drove him into hiding. Joey stood out in the driveway until Snake pulled up. He wasn't sure why he didn't head back inside. Maybe a part of him thought that Craig would walk up any second. The kid said he had nowhere to go, Joey's frantic brain kept repeating over and over.

"Any luck?" he questioned his buddy.

"No sight of him at the mall. The kids at the dot said that they haven't seen him. I checked a few of the other places you said he liked to hang out at," Simpson delivered he bad news.

Joey sighed, "He doesn't want to be found, Snake."

"Come on, let's head inside. Have a beer."

Joey reluctantly agreed, but downed half the bottle in a few gulps. He sank down into an armchair and sighed. "I feel like I've failed him."

"Joey, no. You took in a troubled kid. You've given him a shot when I don't think he had one otherwise."

"You know that feeling you get when your kids are unhappy? I mean it still sometimes almost kills me to tell Angie that she can't have a Barbie when we are the toy section. It's like ten times that right now. I did everything wrong," Joey said, his voice heavy with depression.

"Parents are human too, you know. They make mistakes."

"Craig and I never have fought like that before. It was one of those fights that feel like they are having you and you aren't having the fight. I had no control and Craig certainly can't control himself. I have no idea what's going on with that kid."

"You have been getting him help, trying to help. That's all you can do. There's only so much you can do. Craig has to do the rest."

"I don't know if I did the right thing bringing him home. I don't know what we are going to do when he arrives home," Joey took a deep breath. "I've been trying to get the message out to him that there's no rehab or in-patient hospitalization, hoping that will bring him home. Craig would call all that 'being locked up.'"

"I'm sure it's an absolutely terrifying thing to consider placing your kid in treatment," Snake decided to say. He wasn't Craig's father, he was just hear to listen.

Joey sighed again, maybe for the tenth time over a few minutes. "I can't say what will happen if the cops pick him up. They might put him in psychiatric hold for 72 hours. I have absolutely no control in this situation."

"I'm sorry. It's up to Craig. And like you said before the police said, kids usually return on their own. It's up to Craig."

**

* * *

  
**

Craig returned to that same convenience store around 7, hoping that Jean would still be working. He wasn't sure why he was trusting this absolute stranger but lately his choices didn't make much sense. The warmth of the store burned his hands and feet as they thawed. It almost hurt to move through the aisles as he glanced around for the familiar employee. He wondered if it was some sort of sign. He decided to hang out for the next half hour or so eating nachos, then popcorn. He watched people file in and always grew tense when it was a pack of teenagers. Someone was going to recognize him, he just knew it.

So he pulled his hat on, borrowed from Luke, and the hoodie over. That helped ease his anxiety a little and it lessened when he was out in the dark street. As he walked, he put his gloves on, also out on loan. Manning, you really don't know how to run away right, Craig silently scolded himself. He packed too quick and as usual didn't think.

He suddenly felt like a child, lost without his parents. He didn't know where to go. Popular hang out spots were out; he was sure Joey patrolled popular spots like the mall and his favorite music store. He kept thinking he saw people he knew everywhere. He was certain that was Spike out grocery shopping with baby Jack. He couldn't be seen. Taking the bus, transferring lines until his ticket expired, killed time and kept him semi-warm but there was no way he'd get off in an unfamiliar neighborhood at night. Yup, he definitely wasn't good at this running away thing, Craig thought to himself. He didn't even have an idea what he was running from.

It just helped to keep moving. He had no idea where he was headed and figured that as long as he kept moving, he was safe. Sometimes he would circle the same block several times. He wished he could go farther. Travel to a city he'd never been in and see the faces of people who didn't know him. He could forget everyone who he ever knew, maybe even make up a story about where he came from. He kept mentally running as his feet took him from neighborhood to neighborhood. Finally he dropped down outside of a restaurant, tired and lonely. People passed him by, not glancing down.

Craig glanced at his watch. He needed to find a place to stay. Friday night; he could find out where everyone was partying at. He pulled himself up and wandered to the closest phone booth, feeling slightly sheltered as he closed the glass door. It took him about five calls to find someone who answered their cell or was mentally there enough to tell him an address. He said he'd be over but after he hung up the phone he lingered in the booth. It felt more like the end of an evening than the beginning and he just wanted to go to sleep in his own bed. What was he doing here? He couldn't even remember why he was so angry at Joey.

He pulled the quarter from the warmth of his pocket and hesitated several moments before dropping it into the slot. His hands began to sweat, despite the cold. He was sure that he was gripping the pay phone receiver so tightly that his knuckles were white.

Joey answered on the second ring with a frantic hello. Craig closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head. He could just imagine the worry he was putting his stepfather through. In his mind he could see him with the phone always in reach, searching his mind for the answer to all this. Meanwhile, Angie went to bed without a bedtime story. The guilt punched him in the stomach.

"Joey I'm really sorry. I don't know what I'm doing," Craig finally spit out.

"Craig…Craig…it's okay. I'm not mad," Joey reassured and told himself to change his frantic tone into something calm. Be warm, inviting. He wanted him home so badly. "Come on and tell me where you are at."

"Joey, I don't know what I'm doing. I'm sorry I'm so screwed up."

"It's okay, buddy. It's okay. We'll work it out. Whatever it is, we'll work it out."

"If I come home can we just pretend all this never happened?" Craig pleaded and heard Joey inhale deeply. Then there was silence.

On the other line Joey stood by the living room window and gazed out intently like if he concentrated hard enough, buildings would part and he could discover where his teen was hiding out. He knew he had to be careful with this first conversation with Craig but he couldn't do what he was asking. "Craig, we'll talk and we'll work it all out. Where are you at right now? Are you at a friend's house? One of your dad's relatives? Do you have a place to stay tonight?"

"What does that mean, work it out? Did you call the cops on me? What about Robert? Is he involved in all this? He's the one who wants me to be locked up, isn't he? He let me stay with you and now he's trying to take me away," Craig rambled, his thoughts fast and pulsating. Craig rubbed his forehead. He just couldn't think about the consequences.

"We just want to help, that's all. And it's not being locked up, it's getting help…and that's just an option," Joey tried. He could hear Craig rapidly breathing on the other end.

"I keep trying to figure it all out in my head. I just know that I'm sorry."

Joey didn't like Craig's change in tone. He sounded distant, sad. What was he supposed to say? "I'm sorry too. If I didn't listen. If I said anything that hurt you…"

"But it wasn't you. It was everything I did. Over the past few weeks, I've lost everything."

"But you haven't! Craig, I'm still here."

"I can't fix this. I'm sorry," Craig apologized again, feeling overwhelmed.

"Why won't you let me be there for you?" He heard Joey plead but he hung up the phone anyway.

**

* * *

  
**

Jay stepped over a girl sprawled out face down on the floor, her blonde hair a mess. His eyes lingered on her ass. He smiled at that and how trashed she still was at 7 AM. They were the stragglers of the party. He went to the fridge, wondering what food or drink he could use up of the party thrower's house. He almost went for a beer but reached for a can of pop instead and decided to brave the leftover cheese pizza left on the kitchen counter.

"Oh you're still here?" Jay said as he watched Craig sit up on the couch. He'd noticed that the guy wasn't partying as hard last night. Probably a good thing for the train wreck, he thought to himself.

"For the time being, yeah," Craig mumbled in response and rubbed his sleepy eyes.

"Not that I care or anything but why are you couch hopping?"

"Until I figure things out this is how it has to be," Craig replied with a shrug. Why was this guy talking to him, taking an interest. It wasn't any of his business.

Jay rolled his eyes. "You like to invite the drama in, don't you?"

"No, I'm trying to avoid it. Besides, it's best this way. You don't know…" Craig stood up and approached Sean's shop class buddy. The anger was building inside him. "We've had a total of what? Two conversations? You don't know me."

"I know that there's practically an inquisition at the school. Raditch and Simpson are all over your friends, pulling them out of class to question them about if they've seen you. Your step dad put them up to it?"

"Great."

"Dude, I'm surprised that he hasn't made a public plea on television the first 24 hours you were gone."

"That would be weird," Craig muttered, feeling awkward from the attention he was getting from this situation. That wasn't what he wanted. He wanted to disappear. Fade out from all this.

Jay didn't say anything for a few moments. He took a few swigs of soda, thirsty in that way that you are after a night of hard drinking. Then he said it. "Would you be surprised if that happened? Because I sure as hell would be if my parents took an active interest in my life. All they care about is if I'm not in jail. Your dad is stalking Sean in the hallways wanting to know if he's heard from you and that he just wants to know if you are okay."

"That's not my dad!"

"Whatever. Look, I don't know your situation. I'm not pretending to know. I don't really care. I just know that if my dad…or anyone…was looking for me like that I might give it another chance. Talk things out," Jay said and wasn't surprised by the silence that followed.

"I don't know if I'm ready for what will happen though," Craig admitted and was surprised it didn't feel so strange to be honest and real with this guy.

Jay was quiet for a moment. "Look. While I still think you need your ass beat for ruining what was looking to be an epic party, I told Sean I'd pass the message on if I saw you. Joey said that he just wants you at home. There wouldn't be rehab or whatever."

"He said that?"

"Yeah. I mean, I can't promise you it'll be a bed of roses but that's what I heard. He wouldn't lock you up."

Craig chewed this over. "He was talking about getting evaluated by a substance abuse counselor and all this shit though last week. What if they want me to do AA or NA or some shit like that?"

"I always heard the dating possibilities in AA are endless," Jay consoled Craig with a smirk.

"Well that's a good thing since my girlfriend dumped my loser ass."

"Oh your not a loser, Manning. A petulant brat maybe, but not a loser."

"That's some pretty big words for you," Craig retorted back but their banter wasn't cool like it used to be when they were forced to interact at Sean's. Jay just nodded back at Craig's playful insult with a roll of his eyes and finished off the slice of pizza.

"You really think it was an epic party?" Craig asked with a small smile after a few minutes.

"Yeah, you put on a pretty good party. Totally worth all the problems you've caused. I've got to take off." Jay jiggled his keys in his pocket. "So, you need a ride someplace?"

Craig was hesitant at first. "Yeah. I think I do."

**

* * *

  
**

The sound of the front door opening was a surprise. Caitlin and Angie were off at the movies, catching the newest Disney flick, in an effort to distract her. Angie was surprisingly aware of what was going on, asking questions that he didn't want to answer. He had to struggle from having a response when she admitted, _"I heard you fight. Craig scares me when he's angry." "He scares me too," Joey confessed. Then added, "But sweetie he would never ever hurt you. I'm sure of it." _

So he wasn't sure who to expect at the door. Snake popped by so frequently that it wasn't unusual for him not to knock. Joey wiped his hands off on the kitchen towel and headed into the living room. He was stunned to see Craig. He didn't feel anything at first. Then all the emotions came at him at once. Was this kid okay? He noticed how Craig's clothes didn't fit him right - he must have borrowed from a friend. Had he been eating? Should he offer him food? Where was he? Staying with friends who were into drugs? Then came the anger. Joey really had started to expect the worst. When the phone rang he expected the police or a hospital delivering the news that started with _"I'm sorry but…" _

Craig dropped his backpack to the floor and clutched the stairway banister nervously. He didn't dare move away from the front door. "Hi."

At the sound of his voice, Joey knew that this was real. "I am so glad you are home." He approached Craig and pulled him into a hug. "Don't you ever do that again."

"I'm sorry. I do this…thing. I just…like…try to destroy things or something. I don't know. It's not like I do things because I don't care. It's the opposite," Craig mumbled into Joey's shoulder.

Joey pulled Craig away from him but kept his grip firm, "Don't you ever do that again," he repeated. "I was so worried about you."

"Are you hungry? Can I make you a sandwich?" Joey questioned. He was suddenly reminded of the nights he stayed up imaging every possible scenario, including the boy on the streets hungry and cold.

"I'm fine Joey. It's not like I was spending the nights on the streets."

"Where were you staying?"

"With friends. Guys I used to party with. Guys I thought you wouldn't know."

Joey nodded, trying to figure out what the correct thing was to say. He remembered Robert encouraging him to go easy on Craig his first night back, reminding him that Craig probably hasn't had a steady access to food or shelter while on the run. He might just need to settle back in with a shower and have a good night's sleep in his own bed. "Okay well uh, let's just take it easy tonight buddy. You want to clean up, maybe change clothes, and we can get a pizza?"

Craig nodded rapidly, surprised by how cool Joey was being with the whole situation. A part of him thought that he would be furious at him, maybe even to the point of wanting to hit him. "So you're not mad at me?"

"I'm feeling a lot of things right now but most of all I'm just relieved that you are okay."

"Uh, okay. Well I'm going to go clean up then," Craig agreed, wanting to avoid hearing Joey's true feelings.

**

* * *

  
**

Craig was home. He was actually here. Joey took comfort in hearing Craig in his bedroom. He hadn't been in there since his son left home. One of the runaway organizations encouraged him to do that. It disturbed Joey, felt like he was preserving a crime scene. He sighed with relief. It was over with. The calls to hospitals and dropping off photos to shelters was over with.

He started making follow-up phone calls, letting people know that Craig had returned home; the police first and Craig came downstairs, fresh from a shower, after he just hung up the phone with Snake. He sat down next to Joey on the couch without him even asking.

"I sort of lost myself there. Like, I've been so in my own head this past week. I know you want answers or to understand. But I don't even understand it."

"Okay," Joey agreed, feeling jumpy at this conversation. But Craig was surprisingly calm, sounding like he wanted to confess things, get them off his chest. "Um…"

"After going to Ashley's…I slept on a park bench. I passed out. I know I'm lucky. That I wasn't mugged or raped. I wasn't even scared while it was happening. I just went to sleep. But when I woke up, it was so strange. I walked around and there was homeless people and kids my age with 40 ounce cans of cheap beer. And it was like 7 AM and people were heading to work."

Joey stared down at the floor, still speechless. He had feared that would be what Craig would end up like. He had many fears, many dreams of Craig dead by his own hand or someone else's or on the streets with other drug addicts and the mentally ill.

"I don't want to be that way, Joey" Craig whispered after listening to the silence.

"I was so scared for you."

Craig smiled nervously at that. "It got really freaky at times. And uh…whatever it is you want me to do, I'll do it. I'll see Sauvé and try to figure out what's in my head."

Joey nodded at that. At least Craig was meeting him half way, that was all he could hope for. He seemed to want help, that was a step in the right direction. Maybe he just hadn't hit bottom until now. Now he would start the process to get better. "How about checking out some AA meetings? I think it would be good for you. Hearing the stories, you'd know if that's where you need to be or not."

There was things he couldn't say to Joey. How embarrassed he was when having a passing conversation with a classmate in school and then hearing her walk away and state to her friend with a giggle _"Someone's been drinking." _He really thought no one knew. He didn't like that feeling as he remembered this. So he agreed, "Okay, I can do AA, I guess. But I'm not an alcoholic. But if that's what you want. I'll do it."

"All that matters is that you have the desire to stop drinking and using drugs. Then you are welcome there."

Craig nodded, giving in. At least for the time being, he heard whisper in his brain.

**

* * *

  
**

**Author's Note: **My chapters always wind up longer than I expect (which is thrilling). Sorry it took me another month and then some to get it up. I avoided the chapter, then doubted it, then finally finished it. There WILL be a point where Craig has to be hospitalized and diagnosed like he was in Voices Carry. It's coming. I debated some on having that happen now but it seemed too…cruel…to have a lost Craig finally return home and Joey announce that he was being "locked up." So I'm going with the idea that Joey simply doesn't want to see the whole picture yet. I don't think it's uncommon for parents to remain in denial that something huge is going on with their kid. The next few chapters are going to set up all that, leading up to an event I've wanted to happen since 2004.


	29. Slide

**29: Slide**

Joey looked up at the sound of the back door opening and Angela came into the house frantic like a hurricane, knocking over a stack of clean clothes that sat on the kitchen table. Craig came in a moment later, slow and looking relaxed until he saw the mess on the floor. He quickly bent down to help.

"Craig and I want to go to the park," Angie declared, ignoring the laundry on the table as she climbed onto a kitchen chair.

"It's a beautiful day. We're tired of the backyard," Craig encouraged. He was beginning to think the outside world didn't exist; it was school, Joey's dealership, home. He barely got to see his friends. There was only before and after school, lunch, and in between classes to hang out for five minutes, ten if he was lucky. Sometimes he thought they looked relieved that they didn't have to take care of him on a Friday night. They weren't the only ones giving him watchful looks. The teachers did that too during roll call. Yes he was still here, Craig would think to himself as he raised his hand. Was that what Joey's problem was? He thought that he was using this trip to the park as some elaborate scheme to run away?

"Park! Park!" Angie encouraged, hopping down and bouncing over to Craig.

"Listen to the kid, Joey. I wouldn't want to play with you either. You don't do anything!" Craig argued with a playful smile.

"Hey!" Joey argued back jokingly. "Motion sickness tends to creep up on you when you are old."

"So let Ang hang with someone who…you know…actually plays."

"Yeah!" Angie echoed in agreement. Her father was only mildly annoying at the park, choosing to hang out at the picnic benches with the other parents while she ran around with the other kids. But she felt like she had to take a side this time. Something was different with her brother. Not that she knew what it was; no one ever told her anything. She just knew that he needed someone on his side.

"Guys, I have to start dinner soon," the father figure announced.

"I can take her," Craig flat out stated the fact and didn't buy Joey's diversion. He watched as Joey hesitated, biting his lip a little. Craig felt Angie wrap her arms around his waist and give him a squeeze. He smiled and gently rubbed her head.

"How about you watch a video or play a game?" Joey offered suggestions, trying to avoid looking at Craig. He basically kept that kid on lock-down, aware of where he was at any moment. It gave him a weird mixture of relief, guilt, and confusion. He had no idea what he was doing.

"Joey, come on," Craig encouraged with a nervous laugh.

"Are you still fighting?" Angie questioned. Why couldn't her brother take her to the park like he used to? His friends weren't coming over either. None of this made sense.

"No, we're not fighting," Craig reassured, feeling guilty. The past month had been hard since he was grounded and couldn't drink or pop pills even if he wanted to. Sober, everything was louder, faster, stronger, higher, lower. He didn't have that cushion of the buzz anymore. Situations were real and he was there. He couldn't deal with the feeling of that sometimes.

Music was the only thing that was keeping him sane lately. He spent hours on the internet looking for new music, something to cling to. Then he'd take whatever he heard and tried to put it into his own songs. It wasn't calming him down much though. The energy and thoughts kept coming, jabs of bad memories and experiences mixing up with what he wanted to put down on paper. He just had to get it to settle down, clean up the mess, and focus. He tried to keep his mp3 player on at all times to keep the thoughts out or to have them make sense when his favorite songs came on.

"_Craig, did you eat breakfast?"_

_Joey tried again and this time Craig looked up, ear buds still in and music blaring. He could see Joey's mouth moving. "Breakfast."_

"_Oh. I'm not hungry," Craig replied, his voice louder than normal because of the music flowing into his ears. "I really just want to get to school. I actually have this amazing idea for a song. I want to get my music teacher's opinion…talk to Ash about it, if she wants to. Maybe she'd be into it. Not that she's…"_

_Joey pulled out one of Craig's ear buds. "Sit down and…"_

_Craig felt the anger flame upward. Joey was taking everything away. He caught himself with this thought; his mind sounded like his father, Albert Manning. Sometimes Craig cleared his throat like this would get rid of the mental tone he couldn't shake in those intense moments that felt like they would last forever. Craig never imagined it would hurt so much. Giving up alcohol and drugs was similar to the process of laying his parents six feet under._

_Sometimes he wished the was that unwanted baby given up for adoption and on the search for his parents. At least then he would know what he was searching for. Or running from. That sensation was an odd one. He used to feel wild, running at high speed. He might have taken things too fast but at least he was moving towards something, even if it was some dangerous habits. Now he was like some rabid dog chasing his tail; dizzy, angry and foaming at the mouth._

_Craig sharply turned and faced Joey. "I said that I'm not fucking hungry."_

"_Hey!" Joey barked and Angie cowered some at the potential brewing of a fight. _

Craig was trying. He knew that Joey didn't have 100% faith in him. He knew that from the glances he'd get if he popped an aspirin or used eye drops. The liquor cabinet was locked and any remaining beer was sent home with Snake and Spike after a get together dinner one night. He just watched as things happened; trying not to react, trying to prove that he was okay. And he was. But he still faked sleep (it felt like he hadn't slept in weeks) when Joey checked his room late at night, curious to see if he was still there. He knew his running away from home haunted his step-dad. And Angie was picking up on whatever was going on.

"We're not fighting," Joey agreed, wanting to erase the tension that existed in their household.

"Yeah," Angie realized. "I mean you brought home that ice cream cake for Craig. And it wasn't even his birthday. So why can't we go to the park?"

Joey watched as Craig blushed at that and waited for him to explain. He recalled as the runaway teen pleaded over the phone that he wanted him to forget the party, nearly drinking himself into a coma, and then leaving home when things were tense. He and Caitlin didn't know what to do. It made sense at the time to reward Craig for his thirty days sober. They gave him encouraging words but Joey silently knew that he was only sure of them because of the times he and Ms. Sauvé would take him into the nurse's office before school for a random drug test. It all seemed surreal.

Craig sighed. Cue the moment when Joey rubbed his shoulder as a consolation prize, take him by the elbow and led him out of earshot of whoever else was in the room so he could explain why things were different now. This time they were at home and he led him past the liquor cabinet with its shiny new lock and into the living room, away from Angie who lingered by the kitchen table and was now nibbling at a fingernail.

"Joey, come on. It's the park!" Craig tried with a quick smile to reassure that he was okay, no mood swing this time. He was fine now, even if inside he felt like he was jumping all over the place. He finished the rest of his statement silently and sarcastically it wasn't like he'd find a crack dealer there, at least not in the daylight.

"You can trust me with Angie…my sister, your daughter," Craig continued, semi-aware of the guilt trip he was laying. It's not like I'm a stranger, he finished in thought. He felt a flicker of doubt and anger under the surface. Did Sean tell his step-dad about the time when he was rolling too hard at the mall and lost her? Was that it? No, his friend would rat him out like that. He understand why he was grounded indefinitely but this was ridiculous. And insulting.

Maybe he was being too cautious, Joey realized. He was trying to avoid Craig's obvious discomfort much like he tried to ignore the crying he sometimes heard late at night or the scowl on his face when Snake dropped him off at the car lot every day after school because Joey didn't trust his son with freedom like a car. He wasn't doing it to hurt him. "Craig, it's just that it's going to take awhile to earn that trust back."

That was all Craig heard lately. Joey watched as Craig's eyes glazed over and then his stare turned down to the floor. It took him a few moments to gather himself enough to utter it. It came out as a whisper, "Joey, I have 34 days. I'm doing AA."

Joey nodded at that. He wanted him to do the evaluation session with the substance abuse counselor but somehow the deal ended up being that he would drop him off at meetings every Sunday night at a local church. It seemed like a fair trade.

"I know you don't trust me. I don't blame you. But I'm trying. Can't you?" Craig continued when he didn't get a response.

"I know you are. And I'm proud of you," Joey reassured. Then louder stated, "Okay. Home by dinner, guys."

* * *

Craig pumped the swing higher and higher, enjoying the bright blue sky above him. When he was Angie's age, he always loved the rhythm of the movement, back and forth, back and forth like he was being rocked to sleep. And the height, higher and higher, like if he just pumped fast and hard enough it would take him out of there. In the winter and he and the other boys would swing as high as they could and then jump off, crashing into the pillow of snow. He spent many recesses on time out when the teachers caught them. But it had all been worth it, that one brief moment when he was flying and out of this world (far, far away from here).

"Where were you?" Angie piped up from below. She frantically tried to get herself in sync with Craig, who was zipping forward and behind her.

"When?"

"When you weren't at home for days. Dad wouldn't tell me anything."

"Uh…I ran away. Promise me you won't do anything like that kid. It was probably the biggest mistake I ever made. It just made things worse," Craig explained.

Angie was quiet for a few moments. "But I did."

"What?"

"I ran away once. You can't tell Dad."

"When was this?"

"When Caitlin moved in. It was weird. So I packed up my favorite toys and took Snickers my stuffed dog and I tried to run away. I got scared and didn't dare cross the street though. So I went back home."

Craig looked away so Angie wouldn't see him smile. He was sure it was a huge deal to her. Then he looked down at his kid sister. "Was it because of Mom? I mean, Joey, um Dad, told us that she's like a Mom but we can still remember Mom. Caitlin isn't replacing her."

"I don't know," Angie replied with a giggle. Then in all seriousness asked, "Tell me more about Mom. I can't remember her sometimes."

"She used to play The Beatles while she cleaned the house. She'd play it loud too, so loud that the bass would thump the floor. She never turned the stereo up, or even on, when my dad was home," Craig watched as Angie smiled at that. They both remembered how he would blast music and they would jump and dance on the couch when Joey and Caitlin were out on a date night and stayed out late.

"She used to paint. Sometimes she'd…"

"I know that!" Angie interrupted. They still had some of Mom's paintings around the house. At the least the ones that weren't too out there, Craig recalled and smiled. That was one thing his father and Joey could agree on.

"She was a secretary at some office. I used to end up down there sometimes after school. She'd let me drink those little cups of cream and scan my hands on the copy machine. Man my dad would have hated that if he knew…" Craig trailed off. Something was in his head now, the memory lifting itself up from it's deep roots. He shook his head a little and tried to rid the memory of fights. Fights about work? Fights about him? What?

Make it go away. He looked over at his kid sister and she was smiling. "She was the one who taught me the game of 'tunnels.' We would play it in the basement with old blankets and the fold out chairs we used during big family dinners. It was a nice house so the basement wasn't really creepy…"

"Like dad's. With spiders," Angie chimed in.

"Yeah. We had a nice basement. We always had nice things," Craig hesitated. There was his darkroom with the expensive enlarger and photo chemicals much later. Sometimes he though he should have stayed. He really didn't have it that bad. Then there was another memory, as sharp as the jabs he felt when his father kicked him. "Uh, yeah…anyway we used to set up this fort, this maze of tunnels with blankets. It's weird playing it with you now because back then it felt so big and like it was this other world."

"I'm still mad at you for scaring me!" Angie proclaimed, remembering when her brother was babysitting one night and they turned all the lights off and crawled through them in the dark. Her older brother had turned out his flashlight and popped out, scaring her and causing her to shriek loudly. She didn't want to talk to him after that, even after a bowl of ice cream.

"I'm sorry. I really am. I don't know why I do things sometimes. I uh," Craig felt himself drifting away a little, sort of how he felt when he was upset or drunk. Things felt different. The sky wasn't as blue and he couldn't feel his hands gripping the chains of the swing. "It was so weird. How things used to be. My dad didn't care about all that. As long as Mom made dinner and I didn't act up. But then he…" Craig struggled to remember. He really couldn't. When did things go bad?

"I get mad at you sometimes. Not because you scared me when we were playing tunnels. I just get mad at you," Angie felt safe to confess, her voice barely above a whisper.

Craig quickly dropped his feet down to the ground and skidded to a halt. "Why?'

"Because you had Mom for longer than I did."

Craig's face fell into intense sadness. He thought he was the only one who sometimes felt that jealousy; Angie had his mom, their mom, during the last year of her life. He hated himself when he had those thoughts. He wasn't even sure what to say to console his kid sister. "That's okay to be mad about things like that. I…I uh, wish that we could've all lived together. I used to get angry about that."

"And I don't like how Dad pays more attention to you!" Angie nearly yelled. "He's my dad!"

Craig opened his mouth but nothing came out. He instantly saw the divide: they weren't talking about his real dad. They were talking about Joey. Craig blinked hard at that thought. He still couldn't help but separate his families, the different parts of his life. He felt himself drifting away from that and was back down on the ground, his feet in the sand and he was next to the swing set. It wasn't about his dad. They were talking about Joey now. Focus Craig, he told himself.

It wasn't like it was positive attention. Joey had to keep bailing him out of trouble and trying to help him sort through the mess in his head. It wasn't like a father praising his son for making the honor roll. No, it was consoling him over his dead father or encouraging him to attend counseling. Like Angie said, the ice cream cake wasn't for his birthday.

He heard Angie start to cry and he quickly got to his feet and eased her swing down. He kneeled down by her. "Hey. Hey, kiddo it's okay."

"You're not mad?"

"At you? I could never be mad at you."

"You scare me when you are mad."

"I scare myself when I'm mad."

He almost said it. How he becomes angry like his father. His little sister was thinking it too, he could tell. She had to know. Joey had to have sat her down for a talk when he first moved in and explained that he couldn't live with his dad anymore because Dad hits Craig. Now he was the one who struggled with that anger. Angie knew. Everyone thought that, he assumed and clenched his fist some out of paranoia. He didn't want to be that way and it was almost unbearable to control.

"Push me on the merry go round," Angie declared and took off running, no longer aware of the tears she'd wiped away. Craig jogged along after her and watched her climb on. "Push me fast," she instructed, fully aware of the benefits of an older kid spinning over one of her peers.

Craig grinned and began to push. His strength was beneficial here. "Faster!" he heard Angie squeal, clutching the handle bar and looking terrified and ecstatic at the same time. "I can't go much faster!" he playfully shouted back but gave the ride one strong push before hopping on. He arrived on the merry go round with a loud clang and Angie felt his weight as he arrived on with a bump.

Craig laid down on the merry go round, enjoying the warmth of the metal. It was the first real day of Spring. The kind that teased you about the summer that was approaching. He hadn't seen the sky this clear in quite awhile and they had left their jackets back at the slide. Tomorrow might bring freezing rain but today felt like Spring.

"Did your dad and Mom ever take you to the park like this?" Angie asked.

"She would play at the park. I remember the moms used to sit at the picnic table while all of us kids played…but she would actually slide down the slide and swing with me."

Angie giggled at that, remembering their conversation with Joey who refused to ride the merry go round because of motion sickness.

"Why couldn't you live with your dad anymore?" Angie asked, suddenly curious about why she spent a few days at Grandma's while her dad took care of Craig as he moved in.

"Well…uh…" Craig fumbled for words. It was strange how the memory seemed far away at the moment. That was good. It meant his attempt to push it as far back as it would go were working. "He used to hit me. And Joey and other people thought that I shouldn't stay there with him."

Angie waited until the merry go round came to a stand still. Then she approached Craig and kneeled over him. "He used to hit you?" Angie asked and studied Craig's face. She struggled with this information. "Like he spanked you?"

"Um. Some of that. But he used to hit me on other parts of my body. He would kick me. Push me into walls," Craig confessed, feeling young as the memories came back.

"You must have been scared."

"No," Craig quickly replied, wanting to feel strong. Because he wasn't afraid. It was just things that happened. Had to happen. He deserved it and probably still needed to have something like that happen when he considered his monumental screw ups lately. Then he saw the flash of something. It was like he was outside of himself and watching his father grab at him, shake him, and demand to know what was wrong with him. He ordered his brain to shut off, not wanting to recall the rest of the fight as it escalated. He remembered how he used to creep around his own house, afraid of making mistakes. "Yeah."

Angie shook her head, unable to imagine. "I'm glad that Dad doesn't spank me."

"But I deserved it," Craig admitted. The words just fell out. He quickly sat up, aware of what he was doing. "Hey kiddo, you need to tell Joey…Dad…or me if anyone ever treats you that way. It anyone ever pushes you, hits you, or kicks you. If you get bruises from it. That's when you need to tell."

"But why was it okay for your dad to hit you but someone can't hit me?"

"Because you are Angie the princess," Craig said with a giggle and tickled his sister. She laughed back and gave into the quick hug.

"Craig, no," Angie said after a moment in all seriousness. She wanted an answer. "Why did you deserve it?"

"I don't know. I guess I didn't," Craig replied but it sounded more like a question. "I think sometimes it's just easier to think that I did."

"What did you do that was so bad?"

Craig brushed a tear off his cheek when he realized that he couldn't even recall. He was just bad.

"I don't think you should have been hit," Angie consoled. "And my Dad thought that too. That's why you had to come live with us."

"Are you sure you don't mind?"

"We don't mind. We like you Craig," Angie paused and waited for her brother to say something. He still looked sad. So she smiled at him and said, "I like playing with you the most."

"But I screw up a lot."

"It's okay. We love you anyway," Angie reassured.

* * *

Ashley. What could he say about her? He said a lot to Ms. Sauvé; sometimes complaining about how she refused to look or speak to him in the hallways of Degrassi one week and then the next rambling about how things felt like they were back to normal. It was easier to talk about her than why he drank in school or ran away from home. The school shrink seemed interested enough but Craig got discouraged when she seemed to want to settle him down after hearing him ramble, bringing him away from hope and saying that he had a lot of years and relationships ahead of him.

Craig never thought about long term. A part of him always thought he wouldn't survive the year. He couldn't say that in therapy though. No, that would cause worry and prompt the questions about suicide. The point blank ones that made him embarrassed but also think the questioner was a complete moron. He had peeked at his file once when a staff member pulled Sauvé out of the office. Seeing his history there on paper was disturbing. Yeah, the suicide attempt happened but that didn't mean it would happen again. Craig was used to the way it would creep in, stalk in like stealth criminal and stab him with it. It hurt, sure. But he always survived.

Survival. No, he definitely wouldn't make it past age 18, 20, 25. He was being generous with time here. He wasn't even sure what would do him in. But he knew he wasn't going to make it so it was much easier to battle moments, trying to live in them and make them work. Sometimes his thoughts were like a little checklist and he couldn't move on. He was stuck on Ashley.

She and all his other friends were supportive that first day back to school after he ran away. Unaware of when he actually returned home, Ashley, Ellie, Sean, Marco, Spinner…the whole crew had approached him the hall. It felt reassuring. This gang of support blocking him off from the curious gazes in the hall. It was like being the new kid at school, only not. It almost felt safe, comforting.

Then the warmth slowly drained away. Craig didn't want to answer their questions and pushed them back emotionally. His friends seemed watchful of him; aware of his every move like he was some stranger on the street they had to be weary of. He often heard Joey joke about how he referred to Caitlin as the ice princess in high school. They laughed about it now but Craig couldn't help but compare it to Ashley's treatment towards him. It was frigid.

_He had enough. "Why aren't you talking to me? You can't even stand to look at me," Craig accused one morning before school. "I mean it's bad enough being back here and dealing with everyone else who thinks I'm…I don't even want to know what they are saying."_

"_I heard about what happened. What you did, who you did."_

"_What?" Craig pulled her under the stairwell, giving them only a slight bit of privacy. She refused to meet his gaze._

"_I didn't think you would move on so fast," Ashley replied in a hurry. She always did that when upset. In a rush. Her eyes couldn't stay focused on one thing, which was good because she was fighting tears._

"_I have no idea what you are talking about," he said with a smile, nervous but endearing. Come on, come on, warm up to him. Melt a little. He watched as Ashley shook her head._

"_Evie," Ashley whispered. That one was hard to say. Then spoke up and accused louder, "Jennifer Geo-" _

"_Who?" Craig cut her off._

"_Oh my God you don't even know her name do you? Everyone saw you at that party."_

"_Her. Um. That week was kind of crazy when I…left Joey's. I don't really remember what happened." Craig waited for a response. At least she was meeting his gaze now, so much behind her eyes. He couldn't even pinpoint what she was feeling. "Ash it didn't mean anything."_

"_Maybe it meant something to her!"_

"_Okay. Um. Is that what she's saying? I mean stuff happens at parties." Craig was sure he looked confused. That was what she had to say about it? Why did Ashley care so much? "You are the one who dumped me, remember?"_

_Ashley kept shaking her head. She had no idea who this guy was anymore. She had been afraid to give her first time to him, so weary of that moment when she realized that it meant nothing to him like her mom always warned. Is that who Craig was? "So how many times did we have sex while you were completely wasted? How many times did you say you loved me when you were too drunk to remember?"_

"_I never said anything like that to either of them. Believe me our intentions were pretty clear," Craig stated, his tone harsher now. Why would she doubt any of that now? No one trusted him now. He got that message loud and clear. But what was he supposed to do about it?_

"_But did you mean it when you said it to me?"_

_He could see the tears in her eyes now. "I don't know how to reassure you that I did." She turned away from him at that point, anxious to scurry away to the girl's washroom. "Ash. Come on." Craig tried to stop her and break her path forward. "You know me. You know I meant it."_

_She hadn't just given him her virginity. She gave him private moments. Ashley had confessed things; words that made her insecure, worries that made her feel to stupid to admit but he never treated her like they were. He'd let her ramble away about problems that seemed monumental, like a boil, and let the conversation drain it away. She let him in. Into her heart, mind, and her body. Ashley wasn't just angry at Craig for what felt like a betrayal. She was angry at herself for letting her guard down and allowing herself to be hurt. "I don't know you anymore."_

Then it started to thaw. It took him getting past 30 days of being sober, an awkward milestone at home, in Sauvé's office, and in the caf with his friends. Everyone seemed to want to respond to it. They were being nice. And as much as Craig wanted to appreciate it, he couldn't. It was like they were acting out of some guideline to life or something they saw on some after school special. He did his best to play along and actually felt some relief in it. It was easy to spit out the lines he was expected to say. Things were good. He was doing great. He knew what to say and almost took away the grit of spitting out what he knew he should say. His mind was quick and smooth to assure that he was okay. He was. He was doing this.

Maybe they started to trust him again. Marco, the student body president and always nervous as a squirrel, didn't busy himself with homework when he walked into a classroom. Now they chatted a bit in the last 5 minutes of study hall at the end of the day because their supervisor didn't care. Ellie actually brought up her mother around him and didn't avert her eyes like she felt she was in danger or this was something that would trigger him and he'd want to hit the bottle too. He was the last to know about Spinner playing drums with a new band. Craig could tell from the casual acknowledgment all around. He was the only one who seemed surprised, _"Who are you playing with? When did this happen?" "I think I forgot to mention it. But hey, with you grounded and Jimmy still in the hospital it makes sense that we move on right?"_

And Ash? They did start talking again with the unexpected arrival of a mix CD. "_You must miss the band_," Ashley explained as she handed one off after school while he waited for Snake to wrap things up in media immersion and drop him off at Joey's car lot.

And then it happened. They couldn't talk much at school so the mix CD's started saying what they couldn't, sometimes more. Craig analyzed the songs she chose for her play lists and tried to respond to them in his own mix. One included a hand scrawled note: _"I can't always say what I mean, but I hope this tells you I meant what I said."_ He sometimes still had trouble writing the word love. He'd gotten accustomed to saying it to relatives or people like Joey who pretended to be a parent who loved him, but not with writing it. That would be too honest. But it wasn't that he didn't mean it. He just couldn't place the feeling.

Sometimes he would pass off the latest CD's he was into. The Kevin Devine ones seemed to let her into his world, just for a moment. Sometimes he'd tuck a note inside the CD case and let her know which ones he liked best and sometimes rambling on about sometimes a musician just finds you at the right moment. She responded with the musicians she was most into, including a tape cassette of something recorded at a club downtown.

He had laughed at that, telling her to get with the times. But late that night he stayed up and studied the case, a collage of small magazine cut outs and doodles. Everything had to be a clue. Maybe he could pick up on what she was reading lately or what artist she liked the best out of art class. This grounding left him so cut off from the world. Maybe it wasn't just that. But he was here alone.

That was how he listened to the cassette. He had been forced to use Joey's stereo system. Of course the old guy would have a cassette deck. Much later that night he plugged in the headphones and sat down on the floor and listened to the bootleg. The audio was grainy like an old movie and the fluctuation between pitch too harsh at times but he hung onto every word. This was all of Ashley's world he could see at the moment. He wondered who she went to the club with. That used to be their thing; wet from the rain after a long line, Ash stressing over the fake ID's when they needed them, or just enjoying the conversation that seemed to separate them from everyone else while they waited to get inside.

He sat there on the floor, the moonlight coming in through the window and illuminating his kneecaps. He occasionally snapped out of his deliriously dreamy state and saw them. So he was still here. His mind was wandering, almost making him feel intoxicated by the memories. He swore the warmth was running through his veins; she did still care. She did still want to be with him. It was building all hot and electric and Craig swore that he saw the street light outsides flicker. It felt that intense and he knew it was a sign that he could make things happen. He would make her warm up to him. They would collide, warm and cold, and it would balance out. It was building, swelling like a storm. Ashley was still laying low and he was high pressure, moving ahead and around her and trying to make her remember what it was like before.

"I can give you a ride home," Craig offered one day after school. "The jail warden gave me driving privileges back. I think I could get away with being five minutes late. I'll blame traffic."

"My mom is picking me up," Ashley said, settling down on the steps outside of school.

"Oh. I'll wait with you. I'll just say a class let out late."

They talked and Craig felt himself drifting into that state. Sometimes it felt like they never broke up. It felt like how it did when they were dating, occasionally touching and her smile was soft and sincere. He missed that and found himself staring at her mouth and taking in every word. He tried to move in for a kiss but Ashley turned her head away, leaving his lips an inch from her blushing cheek.

"Sorry," Craig mumbled, equally embarrassed.

"It's okay. Just be thankful my mom didn't see," Ashley reassured as she watched the familiar car pull up. She grabbed her backpack, her hands tightly gripped the straps. This wasn't going to go well. She watched as Craig anxiously stood up to greet Kate.

"Mrs. Kerwin. Hi," Craig didn't know what to say. His brain ached a little as the memory of Joey telling him that Kate was at the hospital with him when he nearly drank himself to death. Then there was him making an ass of himself when he showed up at her house drunk out of his mind. "It's been awhile."

"Hello, Craig. Ashley?" Kate prompted her daughter.

"I'll see you tomorrow Craig." Ashley hurried over to the car and sank down into the seat. She kept her eyes everywhere but on her mother or Craig and trying not to think about the awkward situation. She had never actually discussed the night Craig showed up at her house drunk out of his mind. She certainly didn't mention overhearing the phone call her mother had with Joey, voicing concern over what the teenage boy was capable of. He wasn't stalking them and he certainly wouldn't hurt her, Ashley had tried to reason later.

"That boy never said thank you," Kate remarked with a sigh as they drove away.

"For what?" Ashley's head jerked up and she glanced over.

"For saving his life."

* * *

It was wrong to be in school on a Saturday. It was just a place you shouldn't be on a weekend. He felt awkward like the times when he ran into a teacher outside of school and came to the realization that oh, hey, they shop at the mall or eat out at restaurants too. High school itself was a strange atmosphere and being here on a Saturday was like he'd entered into the _Twilight Zone_.

It didn't help that he knew he missed the sign in time for the ACTs. He told Joey that was where he was headed but somehow ended up driving, circling the same blocks. It was like there was a plan but Craig himself wasn't informed of it. Things were happening, he could feel it. It was almost electric. Such energy; just move, move, move. He didn't know what he was heading for but it certainly wasn't a quiet room where he would fill in dots for hours.

Craig dreamt of the test last night. It was surprising since he knew he didn't care about the exam. He didn't care about the number that would help the university decide if he was suitable for their school (he knew he wasn't). So why was he dreaming that he brought a number 2 pencil with when they surprisingly needed a pen? It was a classic anxiety dream with the pen that didn't work and surprising non-academic questions on the exam. But then it shifted. There was a growl from under the teachers desk that only he could hear. And soon the devil himself was in a desk beside him, whispering at first and then distracting him with a full blown normal conversational tone once it knew that no one else could hear.

He couldn't sit in a quiet room and wait for that to happen. It wasn't that he was expecting some fat creature with a tail to appear and start up a conversation with his strangely sweet tone that made him want more, more, more. Craig just couldn't sit still.

It wasn't the bad kind of restless, he decided as he peeked into a classroom door window to see if Ashley was inside that one. He was stir crazy at Joey's while grounded. Now he could move. He had a car and he could drive until he reached the end of the world if he wanted to. There was something out there now. Craig's world felt bigger, he could have anything if he wanted to.

It was so damn quiet in these halls. It almost made him shudder. He hated quiet today. Craig wanted noise, movement, a concert, city lights, someplace he had never been. He peered inside and saw them all with their heads down. One after another like the IQ test image sequence he took once as a little kid; which one is different and does not belong. They all looked the same until he saw her.

What was he supposed to do? He paced around a bit. What was he supposed to do? He couldn't go in. He was supposed to be in there, taking the test like everyone else. This wasn't how today was supposed to go at all, Craig reasoned as he pulled down the lever. It was amazing watching the progression of events take place; first the loud jangle of the alarm, then the teachers voice trying to dominate the confused tone of the students. Craig got himself to move before the doors started swinging out and the bodies moving through the halls. He'd meet her in the parking lot. He made this happen.

"Craig? What's going on? Why weren't you there this morning when the test started?" Ashley questioned when he approached her. Her ears were still numb from the surprise of the loud alarm and an odd mixture of emotion after being yanked out of a focused state and into the panic of the fear of a fire.

"I know. I know. But think of it this way; we can just retake the ACTs in June. It'll be fine."

"I…I don't understand."

"I couldn't find any other way to get you of there. I mean it's not like I could just walk in."

"Wait. What? You pulled the alarm?"

"Yeah," Craig was quick to reply with a grin, proud of this moment. He couldn't be sure of the number of people surrounding them but it had to be at least a hundred. Maybe more. He made this happen.

"Why would you do something like that?"

"Well…uh…I was thinking that we could take off for the night. It's a Saturday night and Kevin Devine is playing a show in Montreal. What CD are on you on now? _Put Your Ghost To Rest_? It's good but nothing compares to _Make The Clocks Move_. You can hang onto that for awhile if you want. I have it on my MP3 player and I swear I don't go a day without listening to a track off it. Sometimes the whole album because I can't really sleep."

Ashley's face faded for a moment and Craig knew that look well. She was trying to figure out what was wrong. But nothing was. No, there was, he could feel it. He felt it before but tried to bury it away, mumbling "_I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine" _into the bathroom mirror after a crying jag in the shower. But no one could place what was wrong. Something was just off. Maybe with him. No.

"Testing will have to be rescheduled for next Saturday," the teacher declared loudly from the center of the parking lot.

Craig grinned. "See, it all worked out. Perfect. Now you can come."

"No, Craig. I can't. You don't get it."

Craig had seen her irritated like this before. What did he do that didn't work? She seemed to think the answer was so obvious it should have smacked him in the face by now. "I thought it could be like it used to be. We just need to get away from all this."

"Why are you doing this? You seem different."

"What are you talking about?" Craig exclaimed. That always stung the worst. They felt he wasn't the same. But he always felt the same. Felt the same each day, just trying to get through. He didn't feel that different. It was a slow and steady decline with them standing by. Sometimes he felt like they were there, sometimes not.

"You can't do things like this. This is something you'd do when you were messed up on…" Ashley trailed off. "I'm going home Craig."

Craig frowned as she turned away. He fidgeted with his keys before declaring, "Fine. I'll go by myself then."

* * *

"Sit down," Joey instructed after they had cleared the breakfast dishes. "We need to talk about last night. This morning. When you arrived home at 7 AM smelling like you spent the night hanging out in a bar."

"Joey, come on. I told you. The venues usually serve alcohol. But I wasn't drinking."

"Why did you think that you could blow off your ACTs and head to a concert?" Joey asked, wondering if the kid would fess up to the fire alarm.

Craig rubbed his forehead. "I just really wanted to see Kevin. He's totally been helping me stay sober. And I just really wanted to see him live. I just really had to do that yesterday. I thought I could catch as many of his tours that I can…"

"Craig, you are still grounded, remember? I gave you your driving privileges back so you could drive to and from school and help me out around here. It was meant to be an attempt to help you regain some of that trust you lost. I thought I could trust you with that. Remember?"

"I don't know why I did it."

Joey sighed. He gave Craig an inch of room and he managed to run five feet with it. What was he supposed to do with this kid? He tried yelling. He tried grounding. Now he was just here, listening and trying to understand so he knew what to do. He didn't know what to do.

"Joey, I'm really sorry. I just…Kevin Devine. Oh man you should hear some of his songs. Especially from _Put Your Ghost To Rest_. I think he wrote it after getting clean and sober. You should hear some of the stories he tells at shows. He's got such an amazing stage presence. I've been trying to learn all his songs. Let me get my guitar and I'll play…"

"Craig, sit down. Are you even here with me for this conversation? What's going on?"

Craig shook his head, confused. "Lately I just have to move around a lot. I can't sit still. I don't know what it is. It feels really good actually. When things feel so fast it doesn't always feel good. But this makes sense. Like I was just driving and figuring stuff out and for once I had a clear head. And then in Montreal, I realized what I want to do. I want to apply to this arts school. Audition for the music program, maybe apply to the photography…"

Joey struggled with how Craig's thoughts processed as he listed to him ramble. "Okay, Craig. Under different circumstances I'd be happy with how you are thinking about school…"

"You should see it! It's downtown. Man there was such this energy. All the people…"

"If you are thinking about university, you have to take your ACTs," Joey interrupted. "Which is where you were supposed to be on Saturday. At Degrassi taking your ACTs with the rest of your class."

"Oh. Yeah…that…"

"Yeah. That."

"There was no way I could sit through that. I just couldn't. I wrote all these songs in my head while I was driving to Montreal. It was such a rush, a natural high. It was like everything was destined. When I saw the school, then the concert. I really think it's what I want to do. Kevin was a journalism major though. You can hear it in his songs. Man he's such an amazing story teller."

"You can't just skip from point A to point C. If you are thinking about school, you need to take your ACTs."

"So I'll take them later."

"Craig, I know about the fire alarm."

Craig's heart stopped for a moment. "What?"

"One of your teachers saw you pull it. You are going to be suspended for this." Joey watched Craig. It was like the kid had completely forgotten about it and was running around in his own head, wild with dreams. Now he was coming back down to reality. "I don't understand, Craig. Why pull the alarm if you are going to skip out anyway?"

"Ashley."

"Ashley?"

"Yeah, uh, I wanted her to go with, but she was already in the classroom. I've been getting her into Kevin. Isn't it awesome how music works that way? It's such a amazing feeling when you meet this mind-blowing artist and you just know that they are going to change your life. And you get someone else into this great music…" Craig trailed off, feeling like he should stuff his fingers in his mouth to just get himself to shut up. "I just wanted her to go."

"Craig are you on drugs?" Joey had to ask. He hadn't seen Craig like this before. He knew from his quick education on substance abuse that Craig preferred depressants, things like benzodiazepines and alcohol. He liked pain killers. He liked to be down. But now? This was different. Up. Fast. Had he taken a liking to something else?

"That's the second time I've heard that in a day!" Craig exclaimed at the point blank question that sounded like something out of an after school special. "No, I'm not."

"You are acting…different."

"Joey, I know you don't trust me. But you have to a little. I was sober last night. You practically gave me a breathalyzer." Craig stood up and went for the cabinet for a glass, then filled it with water. He downed it in a few gulps, wishing the clear liquid was vodka. He felt that shaky feeling, like he wanted to jump out of his skin. Just to slow everything down a little bit. He glanced over at Joey and saw him watching him intently and suddenly he felt like he had to reassure him that his thirst wasn't the result of a hangover. "It helps to drink…water…pop…liquids that _aren't_ alcohol."

"Oh," Joey mumbled, sounding surprised and a little bit dumb. He couldn't believe he was having this conversation with his sixteen year old. "Is that something they taught you at the meetings?"

"Uh. Yeah," Craig replied softly. "Look, I just want you to be happy for me. That for one day I felt normal. I felt like I could be normal."

"Can you try to see this from my point of view? I get a call at work and they tell me that you pulled a fire alarm to get out of the ACTs and are facing suspension. I head over to DSC and you are no where to be found. You weren't answering your cell. I don't see you until 7 AM. I thought you ran away. Again. I can't go through that again."

Craig's face fell into intense sadness. Joey watched him sink back down into his chair at the kitchen table and fidget around some. He reminded him a lot of Angie when he had to scold her for something like not picking up her toys or eating candy before dinner. Sometimes Craig struck him as so young. He wasn't sure why, couldn't quite place it. He felt like it was a race, trying to keep up with his reactions to whatever trauma he experienced as child. Joey tried to read as much as he could on child abuse and recalled how sometimes abused children regress to the age when first traumatized. That almost explained Craig's reactions. Joey ignored the nagging that it was something more or that the trauma was something he could never heal.

"I just don't want you to be mad at me," Craig mumbled and ran a hand through his hair and briefly gripped the back of his neck as he struggled with this information. He didn't know why did the things he did. It just felt so good to be that up and he had to move all the time. A part of him didn't entirely understand why this was wrong.

Joey wasn't sure how to speak to this kid. "I'm not mad. Well, I am. But not the kind where I want to hit you," he reassured. "I just need you to understand what you did wrong. You can't just take off to a rock concert. You certainly can't pull fire alarms to get out of taking a test. You are still grounded."

* * *

Craig couldn't refuse. Not when Joey and Caitlin approached him late one night after Angie was put to bed. He had clicked off the TV, convinced they knew something and had his guard up. These kind of talks didn't happen unless he screwed something up. Knowing he was tense, Joey spilled the details. He wanted to take him and a few of his friends out for dinner to celebrate his 60 days of sobriety.

"_You don't have to do that," Craig said with a nervous laugh, cheeks red hot. They were acting (key word was acting) like this was an every day thing that parents have to congratulate their kid for._

"_I talked with Kate. Ashley can go," Joey tempted._

"_What? Really?" Craig was stunned, especially since every encounter with Ashley was hot or cold. So he agreed and thought that it might be the closest thing to a dinner date he'd get._

But what he got was something that felt like an awkward holiday dinner, reminiscent of a get together with his father. They were at a nice restaurant. Craig wanted hamburgers at The Dot or something like that so no one would know what they were getting together for. Something quick, something cheap, something unplanned. Joey and Caitlin were late arriving home from work so they all went out. Not a place with a fireplace, ambient lighting, and cloth napkins. This was planned, deliberate, and was meant to mean something.

Craig glanced around. Sean looked less tense than him despite the dress shirt (Craig was surprised he owned one). But he had a girl to lean into and he kept catching Sean and Ellie in private moments where she would smile with his lips close to her ear. Ashley kept her distance from him, keeping the signal clear that they were over.

Angie's whining pierced his thoughts. She was hungry now. First it was wanting another Shirley Temple (and it was Shirley Temples all around, rubbing a little salt in Craig's wounds) and now it was hunger pains. Craig's foot started hopping. He knew how moments like this went and he couldn't stand to see her spill something or knock her silverware onto the floor because the kid couldn't sit still. He hate himself for being this irritated with her.

Things were getting louder now. He hated when that happened. The clinking of glasses, the hushed romantic conversation a few tables over, and the sliding of chairs as another party sat down. The bus boy loaded up a stack of dirty dinner dishes and Craig jumped.

"Are you okay?" Ashley questioned.

Craig knew that look. Watchful Ashley, concerned Ashley. "Yeah. I'm fine," he mumbled back. He took a moment and cleared this throat. "Excuse me."

Sean noticed the glances around the table after Craig had vanished for a good five minutes. Sometimes he thought Angie's complaining was on purpose, providing a distraction. Joey had announced that dinner would be here soon and looked at Sean. He took the bait and announced he'd find Craig. He found him standing in the lobby that separated the bar from the restaurant. He approached him but didn't know what to say, especially since the guy didn't seem to know he was there. His gaze was intense and focused on something he couldn't see. Sean purposely brushed his arm up against his friend and watched Craig snap a little out of his distant and lonely state.

"Hey, I'm glad to know I'm not the only one who feels out of place here," Sean greeted.

"I still feel like I don't belong. Anywhere. At Joey's," Craig finally spoke up after a moment of awkward silence. He had to say something and that was what came out.

"What are you talking about? There was the whole adoption thing. You are there to stay. Joey is doing all this. This dinner," Sean replied, feeling a little baffled. Sometimes Craig angered him. He couldn't imagine not having any parents but at the same time why didn't Craig realize what he had? Instead he kept doubting it and trying to destroy it.

"I appreciate it. I do," Craig said with an argumentative tone. He was tired of all the talks on family; Sauvé with her every family is unique and he did belong (he would sit there so vulnerable because she knew everything about him and he knew nothing about her), Robert with his speeches on adoption (so well rehearsed), and Joey making sure to introduce him as a son (everyone _knew _why). "Like you should talk. Your parents are alive and they are trying. Like Ellie should be there with her advice when she's the one running from her recovering alcoholic mom who is still alive. Like either one of you appreciate what they are trying to do."

How was he going to win this verbal fight? There were night when Sean and Ellie had laid awake in bed, silently wondering about what to do with the parents they didn't trust. Sometimes they spoke, sometimes not. It was strange how the moments of silence were broken with conversation that seemed to match what each was thinking. It was even stranger how Sean seemed to feel lighter, almost happier with each confession. It eased the burden of two sixteen year olds trying to make it on their own.

"Look, we're trying. We're trying to work things out after losing that trust. But what has Joey done?"

"He's not going to always be there, Sean. I know this."

"No, you don't."

Craig struggled like he always did when presented with that thought. Why didn't he trust Joey to be there? He should. Maybe. He just wasn't blood. A mother and father would try, no matter what if you had the same blood. What was he to Joey? A let down. "I embarrass him. I can tell. He doesn't want some sixteen year old who drinks during school and runs away."

"What's this all about Craig? Joey took us all out to this great restaurant."

"I didn't want Joey to have this dinner."

"Hey, it's awesome that he's being cool with this and saying that he thinks it's great that you've come this far. We all do."

Craig sighed. Maybe it wasn't even about that, the family deal. "Yeah I know. I know. And I appreciate it. I do. But it's just…when he offered to do all this I said no. I mean it's strange and…I…"

_He had always been so scared of being discovered. Of what he did. He knew it was wrong. The lectures at high school assemblies about underage drinking and drunk driving didn't faze him. He sat through it like the rest of his peers, not taking it all too seriously and just enjoying the time out of class. He was still grounded for the party, for running away, for the drinking and the drugs…the list went on. He understood why, what he did wrong, and deep down his mind whispered to him that he really should be hit for it. But then he had to turn his brain off because he had this utter sick confusion about how he wanted to drink for it to go away and wanted to be beat for it all the same._

_He dreamt of that moment; the moment where Joey caught him in all his lies and actions. He had nightmares of it repeatedly and always woke up alarmed. And then it happened. It was real. This was real._

"_I can come in with you," Joey offered as he watched as Craig hesitated climbing out of the car. He was staring at the sign in front of the church that listed times of worship and then Alcoholics Anonymous Sundays 7 pm._

"_No. I should do this alone."_

"_Are you sure? You don't have to do this alone. You aren't alone. You have people here for you."_

_Craig's heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest. He never felt this anxious for something before, not starting a new school or picking up Ashley for his first official date. He looked away from Joey and squeezed his eyes and mouth shut, trying not to lose it. Sometimes he had moments where he was sure he would just start screaming. _

_But he didn't. Instead he looked over at his step-father. "I know. And I appreciate that. But I should do this on my own." Something about this felt fake, forced, and unreal. His sweaty hand squeezed open the door handle. _

"_I'll be back to pick you up in an hour. I'm proud of you, Craig," Joey said with an encouraging smile before Craig closed the door shut and headed towards the front entrance of the church._

"Sean…I…I…" Craig found it hard to spit out even though he desperately wanted to. He did want someone to know. He almost found himself confessing it to Sauvé and that was the worst person in the world to let his secrets slip out to. But it felt like it was killing him, stabbing him in the gut with guilt. "I haven't been going to meetings. Like Joey thinks I am."

"Okay. Um…" Sean struggled with this information. He knew something was off with Craig. He couldn't quite place it because he didn't appear clumsy or slow like how he was when drunk or down on whatever pills he took. No, Craig was anything but mellow. He was more moody than usual. And he and his other friends just tried not to look at him _that way_.

"I couldn't do it. I just couldn't do it. It felt like I was entering death row. I don't know why I was utterly terrified. Maybe because I'd see what I really was. I don't know. But I couldn't do it," Craig paused to sigh, feeling himself sink lower into depression. The guilt kicked him in the gut. "But hey the bonus is that I Google information on the meetings and try to know the lingo so I can keep Joey in the dark. Shit. I'm a real winner aren't I?"

"Did you ever go?"

_Craig recalled how he had walked bravely through the doors. The church was foreign to him. And dark. He first saw the light down at the end of a hall and a sign that pointed which way to go. He needed time, he told himself as he headed down. He wasn't ready for this yet, he reasoned and ducked into the bathroom. He locked himself into a stall and struggled, not sure if he wanted to beat his fists against the wall and scream or drop down to the floor. Craig wasn't even aware of the tears rolling down his face till he exited and caught sight of himself in the mirror. The phrase was something he had been saying a lot of lately:_

"_I have no idea what I'm doing."_

_He exited with red eyes, nearly bumping into a man in his fifties although maybe the substance abuse had added a few years. _

"_Sorry. I'm sorry," Craig mumbled, anxious to get away. _

"_It's okay," the stranger greeted warmly. And Craig felt exposed. Someone else knew, he could tell. He couldn't deal with one person knowing let alone a whole room. He didn't have to tell them. There could be lots of reasons why he was here. Maybe he was here with his recovering addict father who had just hit bottom the night before. Craig wasn't the fuck up, he wasn't the bad guy. He was the one who found his drunk father after he passed out and fell through the glass coffee table. He could lie, explain that he was in the hospital and he was here for support. He had no idea what it was like to be that wasted. _

_The comfort of the thought of lying, inventing stories brought him closer to the room where the meetings were being held. He could smell the coffee now and hear voices. He froze, then ducked into a darkened room; use for children's classes he judged from the small shapes of tables and the blackboard. He stood there in the shadows and held his breath whenever he heard someone pass by. He couldn't let them see him, let them know what he was. _

"I tried. Each time I tried," Craig tried to explain to Sean. He couldn't explain how weak it made him. So it was easier to fight it. He needed something to fight for. "But uh, somehow each night I ended up waiting around nearby for Joey to show up to pick me up."

"Do you need someone there with you? I can go. I know they have open meetings where anyone can attend. Ellie goes with her mom sometimes."

"No. God, no," Craig replied and clutched his head briefly as if he was hit with a sudden migraine. "I don't have an answer to any of this. I don't know how to stop it. And can you imagine if we wound up at the same meeting?"

"Craig, I know which one they would hit. We'd go to a different one," Sean reassured with a nervous smile. Then he had to say it. "I don't totally get what you are going through. But I'm trying here. We all are."

"Do you think something is wrong with me?"

"What?"

"I was so okay for awhile there. I was fine. I was happy, actually. I felt like I could deal. I had a plan. I really thought it was going to be okay. And then now it's like it's all gone. Everything is moving too fast. I just need time. I just need time to figure this out."

"What happened? What upset you so much that you had to use?"

Craig sighed. He thought that was how it would go. When he was finally able to sneak out at night to parties, he had a list of reasons and emotions to numb. But somehow he never took that shot and never did anything stronger that was offered to him. Instead he watched everyone get blitzed; sometimes annoyed by them, other times just happy with the company and what he could say things that he knew they would forget. There was Evie slipping him slips of paper with addresses of what party he should hit _("heard you were on lock-down.")_ in the halls of school and him quietly ducking out into the dark of the night, always returning sober. But then it happened. He was…happy…and it happened.

He rubbed his temples. "Sean, there wasn't some huge reason. It just happened. I mean…my God, I wish that there was something so huge, so traumatic. But I was happy. Evie and I were hitting it off for once. That's like all we do is fuck and fight lately. The sex is good but I like the moments where it's just…easy. And that's what it was that night. Easy. So I started drinking and I didn't stop."

Sean didn't know what to say. Finally, "You do realize that whatever you have going on with Evie is driving Ash nuts right?"

"Really?" Craig was surprised and gave a small smirk. So Ash didn't want it to be over. "Yeah well, Evie gives me what I want. In more ways than one."

"I'm sure she does," Sean joked back and for a moment all the tension lifted. Then Craig's gaze became dreamy and shifted back towards the bar. "How many days do you have?"

"5 days. And he thinks I have 60. I did try. I tried so freaking hard."

Craig was sure no one would believe him. He was clean and sober. He was. But now he had to have a bottle stashed in the garage or hidden in a thorny bush he knew Angie wouldn't discover it in while she played outside. It felt safe knowing that he had that one thing to go to. It almost felt like it gave him a purpose. Every once in awhile a voice in his head would pipe up that maybe he just shouldn't have it there as temptation. He shouldn't blow what little money Joey gave him on a pint of vodka and actually use it for what it was for, school lunch. "But hey, what does it matter? Everyone was expecting it."

"You on anything else?" Sean didn't know why he was asking so many questions. He didn't really know what else to say.

"Why are you asking me that? No, of course not. I was clean for awhile. I was."

"I'm sorry. You don't have to be so defensive."

"You know Joey and Sauvé are like probation officers when it comes to drug tests. I can't pull that off."

"How are you keeping it a secret?"

"Joey, Caitlin, and Angie go to bed. My friends don't call. I get wasted. I feel okay with myself and get to go to sleep."

"Craig…I'm sorry-" Sean didn't finish and looked away. All three, Ashley, Ellie, and himself felt it. They knew they were pushing him away to an extent.

"I'm not trying to blame you. It's not your fault. I'd find a reason to anyway. Things happen. Or they don't happen. And it's not like I blame you for wanting to get away from the train wreck."

"Hey guys dinner is here," Caitlin announced from a few feet away and was a bit surprised by the deer-in-headlights looks that both boys shot her. She knew she interrupted a conversation but she didn't know it was that intense.

"Let's go eat. I'm looking forward to this. Then it's back to PB&J," Sean encouraged Craig with a friendly slap on the back.

"Yeah. Yeah. You guys are all so awesome for this dinner," Craig managed to say as they maneuvered their way back to the table. His heart wasn't pounding so hard anymore. Caitlin didn't hear. She didn't know. No one had to know.

* * *

They all hung around outside the restaurant for awhile, making small talk. Ellie and Caitlin easily gravitated towards each other with the pull of talk about her internship. Joey seemed to be trying to catch up with Ashley, asking her about classes at school. Craig smiled a little at that; his step dad missed having them all around, Ash especially. She didn't even have to knock when she came over. That was how it used to be before he messed everything up. Now they were waiting around for Kate to pick her up.

Craig tried to keep the conversation light and away from anything that had to do with him. This dinner was for something else. A birthday, an anniversary. Just not an anniversary for something like hitting bottom and getting sober…or not. Sean noticed by the time he got his chance to say good night Craig looked like he was waiting for someone to give their sympathies at a funeral.

"Congrats," Sean replied with a hand shake but then pulled Craig into a hug. He didn't know what to say. So he whispered in his ear, "It's okay."

Craig felt stiff in Sean's embrace before breaking awkwardly away. Sean could see the sadness in his face, maybe while the others didn't because he quickly broke into a smile. "Thank you guys. Thank you so much for tonight. It means a lot to me," Craig said.

"I'll call you later," Sean replied and looked directly into his friend's eyes, hoping to hit a sincere spot. Something outside of that last statement of his that was a show. "I will. Call."

"Yeah," Craig agreed. He felt the warmth from that comment and the relief that someone knew his secret. Then the guilt caved in. What was he doing here? Did he want to confess everything right then and there outside the front of a public restaurant, not caring who knew? Is that what would lift this weight? He just needed time to figure out, that was all. And now he was dragging Sean down with him.

* * *

Sean listened to the methodic ring then the sound of Craig's voicemail kicking in. It was the first time he'd called in quite a while. He felt terrible for that but tried to relieve his guilt with the self reassuring thought that he didn't know when Craig got his phone privileges back. Sean punched in the number again. And it wasn't like Craig made any attempt to call. No, apparently he was too busy drinking.

"Damn it Craig," Sean muttered as Craig's cell immediately cut to voicemail this time. His friend had turned off his cell phone.

He hung up but kept his hand on the receiver. Ellie gave him an odd look as she passed by, dressed for bed.

"Just a minute," he reassured and then punched in the first few digits of the main phone line at the Jeremiah/Manning residence.

Let Craig get caught. Joey could find his bedroom empty after he thought Craig went to bed hours ago. He could imagine his buddy's step dad waiting up and greeting Craig at 3 AM when he tried to sneak back into the house. Or let this phone call wake up Joey and he could ask for Craig…do something to get the unaware father figure to enter Craig's room. Let him find him alone in bed with only a pint of vodka and the TV for company. Maybe he would be doing the guy a favor by letting his secret be discovered.

Sean sighed and hung up the phone before finishing the call. He couldn't do it. He didn't want to tell Ellie that Craig didn't have 60 days, much less Joey. It was odd how he felt just a tinge of what shame Craig felt about it. Or maybe it wasn't that at all. Maybe it was simply sadness for Craig. Or helplessness; what was he supposed to do? Or Sean just didn't want to be the snitch. Maybe it wasn't his call to make. And the guy was usually okay by the end of every night.

Usually.

He punched in Craig's cell phone number again, remembering the scary sight of him unconscious on the bathroom floor. Sean replied to the standard voice mail greeting with "Uh, hey. Hey Craig. I'm just calling like I said I would. I guess you don't have your phone on. I hope you are okay. You can call if you want. Uh, if not…well, uh, I guess I'll see you in school tomorrow. Take it easy."

Sean hung up and felt defeated. He knew there was nothing he could do. He learned that lesson the hard way with his parents and their fondness for the bottle. There was anger now and Sean didn't want to go to bed. He wanted to drive around, race around corners and enjoy the dark of night. He'd enjoy the music blaring and no one on the streets. Why did they do that? Decide that the company of alcohol was more important than him? And Craig was the same, not wanting to pick up his phone. What did Craig want? And what was Sean supposed to do about it?

"Hey. What's wrong?" Ellie questioned, peering around the corner. She reached out and ran her fingers over her boyfriends hand, touch delicate and tickling like a spider before firmly gripping his wrist and giving a dug.

"Nothing. I just told Craig I'd call. He's got his phone off I guess."

"Probably asleep. Maybe he's not like us and didn't put off writing that report for Kwan," Ellie reassured as they moved down the hall, cuddling some.

"That's probably it," Sean declared as he pulled down the bed sheets.

Sean only met Ellie's eyes for a brief moment and he knew she saw it. She didn't want to make that accusation though. Ellie grew tired of that a long time ago with her mother. It was always a silent one and she didn't even know if she could find her voice to ask about Craig. This wasn't something you talked about. She knew that when on the phone with her dad, reassuring him that things were fine and Mom was just in the shower. They had finally just begun to be honest with each other and while sometimes it lessened the weight on her chest, other times it made something else ache.

No, El didn't have the answers to this. "You can only do so much," she murmured in the dark later and felt comfort when Sean rolled over and pressed his body against her back.

"I'll talk to him tomorrow in school."

"That works."

"He's okay. He's always wound up okay," Sean stated, maybe more in a conversation with himself. He knew what Craig had been through and he had gotten through that. He was always okay. He was always still _there_.

* * *

**Authors Note:**

Hope that it all flows together well since I jump around a bit in describing Craig's relationships with his friends and family. I hope the timeline is clear.

I like to take certain parts of the episodes and alter it into something new. So there's probably some things that are familiar, such as Craig's preoccupation with Ashley. Voices Carry was in my mind while writing this from Crash hanging out on the school steps after school to Craig making some quick decisions due to mania. I hope what I intended came across well; Craig is unable to self medicate with drinking or dugs so he's experiencing some mood swings. I wanted this chapter to focus more on the mania and slowly slide into the depression. He is going to be diagnosed bipolar. It's coming soon. Next chapter focuses more on the depression side.

Kevin Devine is totally a real musician that everyone should check out. Amazing songwriter. Take Craig's advice and check out _Make The Clocks Move first. _

I'm not Canadian so I'm not sure if they even take the ACTs or SATs. I'm just going with what I know although I think the Canadian universities only require it if going to a school in the US. Or maybe it depends on the school. Degrassi DID name drop the SATs in a recent episode but I'm wondering if that's an attempt to reach out more to it's American audience.

I'm thinking about adding links that I use for research (mostly mental health related) or just find helpful to my profile. So you might want to check that out.


	30. Drown

**30. Drown**

Simpson watched as the last of his class trickled out the door, leaving him alone with Craig. The teen had zoned out about fifteen minutes into class and remained checked out despite the loud ringing of the bell. This had become the pattern for the past few weeks. Getting Craig to focus was a hit and miss situation and today he sat in front of the computer like the blinking cursor had lulled him into a catatonic state. The first few times he called on him during class; the first time the kid had made a sarcastic remark in response like being present was a huge inconvenience and he hated the lesson. Then it happened again and he seemed confused and then a bit flustered.

So the media immersion teacher left him alone today and decided to talk to him while the classroom was empty. Earlier in the week he had reassured a fellow teaching staff member that he would check in with Craig. Ever since the school shooting, the staff seemed rightfully on edge. With Craig's recent behavior, his name often came up in passing. If Simpson wasn't the one who offered to pull the troubled teen aside after class, his art and music instructor usually came to Craig's defense. He hoped he was open with them at least. He wasn't going to get very far; Craig had decided he couldn't be trusted. This would end awkwardly at best.

"Craig?" Simpson prompted and then gently touched the teenager's shoulder. "Craig."

It was like watching someone wake up from sleep, maybe from a bad dream. Only his eyes had never closed. Craig jerked away from the touch and glanced around the empty room with a surprised look on his face.

"You zoned out during my class. The bell rang."

His teacher was being pretty matter of fact about this. Did he think he didn't know what was going on? Craig hated how people talked to him lately. Nothing was bothering him and he wasn't on drugs. So he cut to the chase. "I'm not high."

"Alright."

Craig started to attempt to gather his books. He couldn't even remember what he brought to class and his limbs felt heavy like they were restrained with invisible ropes and tied down to concrete blocks. He tried not to think about it because every panicked thought seemed to add a pound. That hadn't happened to him in awhile. His brain used to separate from his body if he needed to get away from the violence at his dad's house. That was over. Wake up.

"I have to get to my next class," Craig mumbled, his voice sounding strange to him.

"I'll write you a pass. Let's talk for a few."

Craig sank back down into his chair, not really caring if his expression was a pained one. These 'let's talk for a few' moments kept happening. Some instructors were better at sneaking the 'are you okay's in than others. His art teacher, Ms. Cohen, was decent. She just snuck the personal questions in while they discussed his final project. He spread all his photos across the tables and explained that a summer ago he and his friends used to climb the fence for a little night swimming. He kept returning on his own through out the fall, then the winter, this time bringing various cameras. He had rigged up a way to toss in a underwater camera and the outcome was always a surprise. One might end up out of focus, the fall leaves that floated on the surface just fields of color. He liked the abstract ones the most; the algae on the side of the pool was strangely beautiful when close up and so was the sparkle of fresh snow on the frosty ice. In the latest, the water was a crisp blue since the employees were preparing to open for summer but looked lonely without any children splashing in the water. When Ms. C asked if he knew someone who worked there and that was how he was getting in, Craig didn't bother to lie. She had just smiled, shook her head, and told him not to get caught.

Out of all his teachers, she probably made him feel the most normal. When they were alone because he was working in the darkroom after school, he got the unedited take on the stories she told about art school. The tales didn't get overly cautionary even after he returned back to school after that fateful night where he threw the party and almost drank himself to death. Maybe that was why she was the only person he ever admitted how crazy things had gotten and why he had to runaway from Joey's. He was doing better now though really, he had reassured and gotten strange advice in return; maybe Craig needed a balance of energy. He didn't know much about Feng Shui, Quantum Physics, and wasn't patient enough to even consider meditation but maybe she was onto something there. If things like bad energy did exist, he was a magnet for them. Terrible things had happened to him.

Craig blinked and snapped out of his daze when he heard Mr. Simpson tap on the computer screen. The notepad was still blank, html not written this weekend and he didn't bother to even attempt to start on it in class. "HTML holding you up?" the teacher asked, not dipping into anything personal yet. "I can hook you up with a tutor."

"No tutor," Craig was quick to reply. He tried that with Toby, mainly to humor Ashley and get his teachers off his back, and it ended badly.

_Craig could sense Toby was getting frustrated. He didn't blame him. There was longer periods of silence now as Ashley's stepbrother struggled to think of a new way to explain graphs and functions. They had already gone through at least three approaches. _

"_It just doesn't make any sense," Craig mumbled with a sigh. Sometimes it was easier to let the teachers think he didn't care. Well, sometimes he didn't. Because that was the truth; it didn't make any sense. Who came up with these laws of science and why should he trust a string of numbers a mathematical problem produced? He never got any of the answers right when he used what he thought was the right equation._

"_No, it does. Try to think of…"_

_Craig started to zone out. Maybe he should fake understanding it. He was good at that as a child. Craig tried to explain to his dad that he simply couldn't do math and science. Dad of course thought this was ridiculous; "You just aren't trying." He did try. Until he saw facial features tense up or picked up on a change in tone. He wasn't doing this on purpose. So he'd break into a smile and exclaim that he got it, often commenting on how he couldn't believe he didn't see it before. And then his father looked proud of him and it seemed like he enjoyed being around him for once._

_Which was why he was angered when weeks later the test came back marked with a failing grade. Craig felt like he was being put on trial. He had to sit there at the kitchen table with the test out in front of him like evidence. And the interrogation…there was no way to win. He knew Dad wasn't going to be happy with whatever explanation he had to offer; Craig wasn't good with tests, he forgot the formula, he didn't study the night before. It was his fault. And he should be punished for it. The tutoring sessions with his dad were making him sick to his stomach so in junior high he tried a new approach; borrowing his best friend's homework. He didn't want to think about the consequences for that one._

"_Hey. Craig," Toby prompted. He watched as Craig blinked and slowly looked around. _

"_Can we finish this later?" Craig replied, his words a little slow. He wasn't even sure he was here anymore. It wasn't like the daydreaming he'd do as a small child, his mind taking him over rooftops to imaginary places he had seen in books. This was different. He didn't know where his mind would take him or what sharp edge he'd bump into. _

"_We're almost done." Toby had done this tutoring session as partial black mail payment to his step-sister, although it felt more like a favor. He was curious how the guy was doing, not having spoken to Craig since the night several months ago when he showed up at his house drunk. They didn't talk about that though, although he wasn't sure he could keep it out of his eyes. Craig seemed a little awkward and embarrassed when they first started working but never brought it up. Toby was sure they both didn't want this to be a regular thing. _

_Craig stared down at his notebook, mentally losing anything he had just learned. Focus, focus, he ordered himself and gripped the pencil tighter. He scribbled down a number; wrong again he learned and watched as his tutor erased the answer. Once he went to his father for help with homework and he criticized his handwriting, angrily erasing his social studies worksheet. It didn't even matter if he was right or wrong. He wasn't going to be able to sit here much longer, not with this in his head. Craig didn't even know where it came from and it took a force of will not to shake his head, like it would dislodge these bad memories from his head. That only seemed to agitate them more and he could almost hear his father's voice behind him, 'you always screw up.'_

"_We're done here," Craig snapped, and pushed their textbooks to the floor with one quick sweep. He stood up with so much force that he knocked over his chair. It gave him a moment of peace. He finally shut him up. The memories were gone, his father's voice out of his head. Craig actually felt proud of himself. He had been waiting to be the one who tore up the notebook page of homework, the one who got to actually show he was angry. _

_Then he looked around, first a stunned Toby and then over each face in the library. They all had turned to look and find out the source of the unexpected noise. What was he supposed to say? He messed up again._

"_Sorry," Craig mumbled, grabbing his backpack and heading for the door. _

"_You are a psycho like your father."_

_That stopped him dead in his tracks and he slowly turned around, expecting a confrontation. But no one was meeting his gaze, wanting to take credit for the remark that he was a chip off the old crazy block. He couldn't be sure who said it. His embarrassment deepened, the blood rushing to his cheeks and turning them red. Sometimes his peers comments came out of nowhere and hit him like a punch to the head. They knew. Craig shouldn't be surprised but he was when a girl lost her inhibitions drunk at a party and the curiosity got the best of her and she wanted to know about his dead parents or where he was those days when he missed school when he ran away. _

And now he was sitting here with Mr. Simpson and afraid he'd lose it again. It was getting to a point where Craig wanted to isolate himself because he knew he couldn't control what he would do. "I'm sorry," Craig mumbled and closed his blank media immersion document. "It's just uhh…I've been putting all my time into my final art project and my music class. Wrote a song last night called "Drowning" and it so goes with the theme in my art class. It's going to turn out awesome."

"The theme is drowning?"

"It's turning into that. I'm going to recreate some of the classic Ophelia paintings, only using photography. Still trying to find me a model though to use at Degrassi's pool and not seem like a total creep about it."

"Hamlet's Ophelia? She killed herself, right?"

"Uh, yeah," Craig fidgeted. Don't ask me if I'm thinking about my dead father, he mentally warned. "The paintings are really beautiful. She usually looks like she's just asleep, peaceful, floating on the water's surface or she's sinking below and entering this other world."

"You'll have to let me know when it's done, I'd like to see it."

"Sure. You wanted to keep me after class to talk about my art project? Ms. C didn't seem to think it was weird or that I'm being morbid. Did she say something to you?" He couldn't trust her either, could he?

"No. No, she didn't. But some of your other teachers are concerned about…"

"I'm fine," Craig cut off, irritated.

"I need you to start paying attention in class. Is something on your mind? How are things at home?"

"It's not that," he replied, barely differentiating him from Ms. Sauvé or the other teachers who kept him after class. How could he explain it? He didn't even understand why he was so depressed. He hadn't been this sad since his parents died, particularly more his father since he was actually allowed to grieve over that loss. Often he felt like people should give him that; he should get to be bummed out over his parents. Was that it? He searched for the answers. The answers they all wanted. But he didn't have them.

"You and Joey getting along? Simpson pressed after a moment. This time he got Craig to actually meet his eyes and stop fidgeting. He saw a flash of something in his eyes and his brow creased like he was studying him or suspicious of something.

Craig laughed, bitter and low. "You can tell him whatever you want. I don't care. I know that's what you'll do anyway."

"We can talk. I don't have to tell him what we are talking about."

"Right." The teen's mind flashed back to the whirlwind of events surrounding his father's death. The talk of the gun, the dark house, not being able to move, staying in bed after the funeral. And then there was Simpson. His whole teacher act of 'I'm here for you' and then he wanted to dump him off at the school psychologist when he realized Craig was a mess that he didn't want to clean up.

"I haven't seen you goofing off with your friends lately. I used to have to threaten you and Spinner with double homework to get you to quiet down in class."

Craig shrugged. Truthfully, he didn't care about them anymore. It sucked the energy out of him to talk with them, smile, anything that showed that he was a human being with emotions. He didn't have any of those anymore. Craig felt hollow on the inside, a ghost of himself.

"Ms. Sauvé said that you skipped out on the last session you were supposed to have with her."

Craig rolled his eyes. Did they have some big pow wow everyday in the faculty lounge before school? Or was it during lunch hour when they all traded information; is Craig paying attention in class, are his pupils dilated, has his demeanor changed over the past week?

"That's right. It's none of her business."

Snake had never seen anyone this determined to refuse to admit whatever was bothering him. "She's the person you can open up to. If you don't want to talk to me or Joey…"

"I talk to her. I know what to say. I know what she wants me to say." The silence overwhelmed the two for a moment. "Can I go now? None of this is any of your business."

Simpson sighed, logged into the computer, and after a few clicks pulled up the last test and then a spread sheet of Craig's marks. "This is my business. You failed your last exam. You were zoned out for the entire exam. You didn't even finish a third of it. We're a few weeks from finals. I'm still missing assignments. You need to pull your marks up or I can't pass you."

"I don't care. Believe me, I'm this close to dropping out."

"No, you aren't."

"How do you know?" Craig snapped back. He challenged Simpson's gaze for a moment and then broke it once he saw that look he knew well, slight tilt of the head like he was studying him and the concern in the eyes.

"Craig, you don't have to drop out. Just turn in the missing assignments, do an extra credit project, and prepare for the finals."

"You don't get it. I. Don't. Care."

"Okay," Simpson agreed and closed several windows.

Craig gathered a few books and got to his feet. "Look, I appreciate the hand holding but I really don't care about this class or any others. You should take Mr. Perino's approach and tell me that I just need a kick in the rear."

"So your having troubles in your other classes?"

Craig stopped walking towards the door and turned around to deliver a final message, "Stop caring. You don't have to because I'm Joey's kid or whatever. It's none of your business."

* * *

"Angie missed playing with you at the park," Joey decided to go with as he entered Craig's bedroom. He was there under the false pretenses of delivering a load of clean laundry. He stared at the teen still in bed, blankets pulled up nearly over his head. Maybe to block out the late afternoon light. Joey entered the teen's room at noon and opened the curtains.

"If she has her way, we're watching a Disney movie tonight. Want to join us and toss in a vote for something else?" he continued after a moment of silence. It was like he had to remind Craig that they were still here. He didn't talk to them much lately and when he did, Angie soaked up most of his affection. She asked about him every night when Joey put him to bed, although she had stopped asking if Craig spent the day in bed because he was sick.

Joey sat down on the foot of the bed but didn't dare reach out and touch the teenager. He hadn't seen him this depressed since his father's suicide. Was that what was wrong? Joey ran a list of dates and events through his head. He couldn't figure it out. The school was in contact frequently with him now. He felt like they expected he should do something.

"Are you having difficulty in your classes at school?"

Craig shrugged in response. He didn't care about that. Not anymore. At first he thought he came down with the flu, maybe mono. That had to be why he felt so heavy, barely able to walk from class to class much less focus and do the work. Sleep, when it happened, didn't recharge him. So he remained there in bed during the weekends, staring at the digital numbers on the clock slowly tick up and reset themselves at midnight. Each day he waited for it to end.

"Not getting along with one of your classmates?"

Craig broke his gaze away from the clock to glance at Joey. He weakly shook his head.

"Girl trouble?" Joey questioned with a light hearted tone and a smile.

"There's no one," Craig replied, his tone heavy and his eyes dark.

Joey finally averted his gaze from Craig and gazed around the room. He didn't want to leave, not yet. He still wanted to give Craig a chance to talk if he needed to. What was wrong? What was wrong? If he wasn't saying it out loud he was thinking it. He scanned the teen's room, which was a mess. Joey often went father-figure on the kid because it seemed like the thing to do when really he preferred it to the first few weeks when Craig was slow to unpack and preferred to live out of a suitcase. With the mess it felt like it felt like things were permanent. Now they were and he had to be the dad.

He tried to mentally prepare a speech in his head about homework and the teen's messy room. Dirty clothes Craig hadn't brought down to the laundry room no matter how many times Joey reminded and school text books untouched on the desk. He knew they were untouched because the school was calling him repeatedly at work. CDs and books rarely made it back onto the bookshelves. He could tell what book Craig had just finished late that night by it's position on the floor. He never brought up Craig's secret bookworm tendencies. He figured the teen wanted to keep up with Ashley; she was smart. Craig was too, Joey knew this. Way better than he was in school. Which was why he couldn't figure out why the kid wasn't trying at all.

Joey continued to survey Craig's room, the silence becoming awkward. Something was different with the clutter on the floor. Joey spied a photograph of his mother; she was young and on a beach with a flower in her hair. From before he ever knew her, he realized every time he laid eyes on it. He never asked about it, feeling uncomfortable about placing himself in this segment of Craig's life even though it was only a question. Sometimes he silently wondered if it was from a family vacation or maybe it wasn't even one of Craig's memories but one that was Albert and Julia's. Either way, Craig liked the picture and it was always taped to the mirror. It wasn't there now though. Now it was on the floor. So was the one of Ashley, black and white like a still from a noir movie. And the one of Craig and Angie from a few Christmas holidays ago, a Santa hat on his head and reindeer antlers on hers. Craig tore the photos down on purpose? The dresser top was also bare as if the teen had pushed everything off with one sweep of his arm.

Joey sighed. "You don't want to talk. Okay." He watched as Craig didn't even blink. Craig felt the weight of the mattress shift as his step-dad got up. He didn't watch him move towards the door and didn't see when he paused.

He glanced over the room one more time, eyes lingering on the teenager who would most likely spend another weekend in bed. What was Joey supposed to do? "Clean up your room this weekend, alright? And I'm serious about putting away the laundry," was what came out.

Did he even hear me, Joey wondered as he headed downstairs. Time to make dinner, which Craig wouldn't eat. He missed the days when he had to order two large pizzas (one for Craig and the occasional drop in visitor-friend) when he and Caitlin were late home and take out was the most convenient option. Now he didn't even join them for dinner. At first Caitlin used to dish up a plate and bring it up to him, which would remain untouched. Joey was annoyed with this. She was doting on him like he was a sick kid. Craig could get out of bed. They should make him get up. She was just encouraging this phase, he had grumbled to his live in girlfriend. He should pull the blankets off the teen if he didn't get up at noon and open the curtains. He could sit beside him and watch him do his homework to make sure it gets done. But what ended up coming out of his mouth was _"Let's just leave him alone."_

Now they left him a plate in the refrigerator. Joey opened it and saw that the sandwich from lunch was still tightly wrapped with plastic. The lasagna from last night looked like it had been poked at, indicating that at some point during the night Craig got up. He hadn't been up yet today other than a trip to the bathroom, where he didn't shower. It all reminded him of after Albert's funeral when Craig had slumped into a depression and they basically had to bribe him to function.

"That's the trouble with these things. You have to watch them all the time," Caitlin interrupted Joey's thoughts and quoted Jeff Goldblum's character from The Big Chill. She had been watching him peer into the fridge for the past 30 seconds or so like he was taking an inventory for a grocery trip.

"Just trying to figure out what to make for dinner," Joey replied, snapping out of his trance and shutting the door. He opened a cupboard door and stared.

"I got it," Caitlin confirmed and reached for a box of macaroni and cheese, which was always around like it was in a food group of it's own. "Really, I do. The instructions are on the box. This and corn dogs?"

Corn dogs was Angie's current food craze. She would eat them for breakfast if they would let her. They had been getting creative with things you could dip into batter and serve on a stick lately. "Sounds good. Uh, I've a phone call to make," Joey replied and grabbed the cordless on his way upstairs.

Even through Craig had his door closed (which he always did), Joey closed the bedroom door to his and Caitlin's room as well and secured his privacy. He punched the Simpson-Nelson residence number and mentally shuddered at the thought of the rage Craig would fly into if he knew that he discussed him with his high school teacher. They often gripped about their teens together sometimes and Joey would joke that he was glad he was stuck with Craig and not a teenage girl. Which Snake would reply _"Just you wait" _and they would both smile and shudder at the thought of Angie's future was who he felt most comfortable talking with about Craig.

He knew sometimes Caitlin would fidget under the blankets if they discussed the troubled teen in bed in the dark. Her relationship with Craig still felt new and strange. She wasn't sure what to define herself as to him. Step-mother type person, she had awkwardly fumbled for words when she introduced Craig to co-workers if he stopped by the television studio. It wasn't that she didn't care for him. It wasn't that at all. It was more like she felt like she was stepping on foreign territory with a job rank for tasks she knew nothing about. And maybe she worried too much that Craig thought she was taking over Julia's role. She was still a ghost in the house, Craig sometimes had the same expressions she had seen in Julia via photographs and Angie had many of the same physical features. Julia even popped in unexpectedly during dinner. _"This roast beef reminds me of how my mom used to make it_," Craig had remarked once and seemed impressed.

Lately Joey didn't want to think of Julia. Not because he missed her (and he still did). But because the memory of her felt like it was accusing him. It wasn't unusual for Joey to mentally hold conversations with his dead wife. Sometimes it was silly; If you were Angela what would you do with your stuffed elephant that's gone missing? Know anything about the Barbie purse? Other times he would weigh in her opinion on parenting decisions. He hadn't talked to her about Craig in awhile, not since the house party and secret drug and alcohol use were ousted. What would Julia say about this? He felt like he was doing something wrong.

"Snake, I don't know what to do with Craig," Joey confided to his buddy almost the moment they were on the phone. He didn't even bother with the small talk. He asked about the family and then launched right in. "I've tried yelling at him. He's either really aggressive or submissive and takes off running away. Being angry at him like that doesn't work."

Simpson was quiet for a moment or two. "Maybe it's his background? His dad reacted with anger. It's just…an after effect."

"And I've tried just talking to him. Last month when he took off to that concert, I sat him down and talked to him. But it was like he didn't get it, couldn't understand why people were upset. Now it's like he's not here at all. So what do I do?"

"I don't know. Joey, maybe something is wrong. Something bigger."

"He passed his last drug test. That's the first thing I thought was behind all this."

"No Joey, that's not what I mean. Last month Craig was pulling fire alarms and taking off to concerts. Now he's spacing out in class and spending the weekend in bed."

"He's seeing Ms. Sauvé, Snake. She'd know if something was up."

"He told me that he knows what to say to her. He said he knows what people like her want to hear. I don't think he's being honest."

"He said that? Why won't he let her help?"

"Look, maybe he doesn't even know what's going on. But I think something is going on here. I see a lot of kids everyday and I think Craig is going through something more." Snake was careful with his words here.

Joey was silent for a few moments, racking his brain for solutions. Should he drag Craig into a psychiatrist's office? That literally might be what would happen. Consider that instead of having Craig spend his summer at camp, he'd enroll him into a residential program at a hospital? It all felt too extreme because it was Craig. He knew that kid and he would be fine, he had to be. Joey reassured himself out loud. "I just have to get him through this school year."

* * *

Craig had begged Joey to let him stay home from school. His step-dad had humored him enough to feel his forehead for a temperature and ask him if he was sick. No he wasn't but he just needed to rest, Craig had explained. Joey wasn't satisfied with that reasoning especially since it was only mid-week and the kid had spent all weekend in bed. But Craig needed that now more than ever; he physically felt weak now.

So Joey would have to understand why he cut out of his last few classes. It felt like he was slipping. Dipping down lower and lower. Just when he thought it had to be the bottom, the floor gave way. As each hour passed, the world seemed to mutate. It was strange, different, and sometimes he questioned if he had even woken up this morning. He had been feeling overwhelmed lately, but at least it had always been internal. The noise was contained in his head. But now it was like something was free and it was around him.

The hallways after class was like a battlefield and each voice, locker slam, or shoulder bumping into him was an assault. By lunch time he was too sick to eat. He just sat there at the table alone (he forced himself to be alone) and tried not to focus on anyone who passed because he couldn't stand what they might be thinking of him. If it got much louder he feared he might start to actually hear those thoughts. But right now it was only the sounds around him that were amplified; the banging of pots and pans in the caf's kitchen like gunshots and the conversations around him as loud as a rock concert. He cringed at any laughter he heard and was sure that a giggle he heard in response was someone who noticed how off he was.

And Craig didn't want them to know. He was tired of being the kid who was hit by his father, the orphan, the drunk who popped pills. He didn't want to be anything anymore. Including the budding photographer or wanna-be rock star. He had been leaving his guitar at home lately because he was tempted to give it away. He used to crave the attention he got from playing and now he just wanted to be invisible. He didn't want anyone to know who he was, know his name. Craig didn't want to exist anymore.

The caf was filling up and his paranoia was climbing. "Stop talking about me," he finally declared, suspecting gossip, and that was when he left for home.

He thought then it would stop. The house was empty and quiet with Caitlin and Joey at work and Angie still at school. But Craig was slowly starting to realize that it wasn't the noisy caf or having to focus in class that he had to get away from. What he needed to get away from was himself. And now that was who he was left with, feeling like he'd somehow been tricked.

Joey had stopped locking the liquor cabinet once Craig hit what he thought was his 75 day mark when in actuality 5 days was a long stretch for him. He seemed so proud of him. Craig could see relief in his step-dad's eyes too; it was just a phase he went through. Later that night Craig went downstairs after everyone was in bed and could have sworn he'd seen a roach crawl out from underneath the cabinet.

But he didn't take anything from it until now. Joey would have to understand, Craig reasoned and took out a bottle of Jack Daniels. If he didn't somehow stabilize whatever crap was in his head, he was going to die. Distractions didn't work so the TV and music were out. Instead he kept refilling his glass with whiskey and pacing around the empty house like he was being stalked by some invisible force. It caught up to him when he saw his reflection in his bedroom mirror.

"_It's your fault, you know," Craig declared. His empty beer bottle gave him a sense of loss. _

"_Oh?" Evie encouraged him on, sounding annoyed._

"_If you weren't around I wouldn't be doing any of this; drinking like this and lying to Joey."_

"_Sure. Of course it is. Anyone else you want to bring up while you are playing the blame game?" Evie retorted sarcastically and thrust another bottle at him. "Have another drink, Craig." _

_He accepted it and chugged it quickly, only stopping once to take a breath. Their night started out alright, late, but alright. By the time he started drinking, everyone else was hammered. But he was quick to catch up and satisfy that itch. He took Evie's hand to lead her to an upstairs bedroom at the house party but she slipped a set of keys into his palm instead. He didn't know who's car it was but they took it out anyway. He was surprised how easy it was to drive under the influence; only once did his conscience kick in and he suggested that they ditch the car in some parking lot. They left it at the school but not before messing around in the backseat._

_Sometimes it was like a switch went off in his head and when he was drunk and that was the only reason he could figure out why he did what he did. It still haunted him how many times he had nearly thrown his fists at Joey. Joey of all people. That was the guy who had taken him in when he had no place else to go. But sometimes he didn't feel grateful; he felt like some stray animal who needed to beg for a home. Home. What was that anyway? He used to mentally plead with himself, maybe to God, that he just wanted to go home. But when he arrived there it didn't satisfy something he craved. He didn't even know how to feed that hunger, the want for something safe and secure. He was stupid not to realize that Joey was giving him that but he just couldn't. He couldn't. He tried to explain it to him after he ran away that sometimes it was safer to destroy what he had. He was wrong, stupid, backwards enough to not want to get better and couldn't fix whatever was wrong with himself._

"_Did you just throw that bottle at my head?" Evie accused after the bottle shattered on the wall behind her._

_Craig's jaw dropped as he watched in slow motion as Evie charged at him, steps heavy and hard with anger. If there ever was a girl who could kick his ass it was her. So he wasn't surprised by the strength of the blow and the stars he saw afterward. It didn't knock him over but he scrapped his hand while trying to steady his balance. Craig gingerly touched his eye, then his forehead, checking for blood. Something seemed to drift by him like a cool wind. He used to be used to surveying the physical damage after his father struck him. _

"_Shut the fuck up," he mumbled and wasn't sure who it was intended for. He didn't hear her response even though he knew she was rambling loudly. Evie's words sounded muddled to him. Several times he was certain his brain put the words into her mouth. He felt her push him a few times and saw that her lips were moving but he couldn't make out what she was saying. _

_Then it happened. He had gotten in a few fights at school but he had never hit anyone, let alone a girl, like this before. He felt something sharp and shrill pierce his brain; kneeling beside his mother to pick up a broken dinner dish and his father's yelling still echoing in his brain. She told him her cheek was swollen from crying. It was something new he uncovered just then, something he wanted to put back because it was like a fire alarm during a mid-term or a chorus of car alarms going off in the middle of the night. He was certain he wasn't going to sleep tonight, afraid of the nightmare that would put the pieces together._

_He was sure how long he stood there or how long Evie was on the ground, stunned. He watched in horror as she spit up blood onto the ground, the liquid gleaming under the street lamp._

"_Oh my God," Craig mumbled and instantly went for her and then stepped back when she held out a hand in protest, a silent no. He could have killed her was the bizarre thought that went through his brain. He wasn't even sure what it meant. He wasn't sure he could stop? Or he actually thought what he did was that wrong, equivalent to murder. But it wasn't blood from repeated sharp kicks to the gut, internal organs swelling up with blood until it escaped through your mouth with a gurgle. What happened was that his blow cut her off mid-sentence and she bit down on her lip, splitting it open. _

_Her mouth wasn't moving now though and it was stained red with blood, like the lipstick she wore earlier that evening before they started drinking that hard and ended up here. He would find a trace of that lipstick on the collar of his shirt later that night as he quietly undressed for bed, putting in a couple hours under the covers before anyone would wake up for work and school._

_Craig couldn't find the words to explain why he did it. He, as phrased in slang terms, bitch-slapped her. Backhand across the face. Exactly like his father did to him that one fateful dinner, their last dinner they would share together. He felt a lot of things because of it but one thing he would never verbalize was how he'd been embarrassed by it. He wasn't punched like he had gotten in a fist fight. It just took one quick slap and he'd been put in his place._

"_I didn't mean…" he mumbled, still staring down at her. He was just like his father. Everyone silently wondered and maybe even feared that whatever it was that made his father violent and crazy, it was in him too. He sank down to the street curb. He gripped his knee caps out of a fear that he wouldn't be able to control what he did with his fists. He'd torn apart rooms but he never thought he'd do something like this._

_Craig wasn't sure when she got up because he completely zoned out, losing time. That used to happen to him frequently back when he lived with his father and it was always jarring to come back from blackness and see that the world was still there. Even more control was lost and now he realized that he started crying. He didn't know what to say so he kept his gaze downward and clutched his head like it was aching. When he finally removed it and looked up, he saw that Evie was on her feet now and standing a few feet away from him. _

_He didn't expect her to stay, their night was over. This was probably it. This, whatever it was that they had, it was over. When she finally spoke, it didn't come out of her mouth sounding cruel. It was just a sad observation,_

"_You're pathetic, Craig."_

He kept staring at his reflection in the mirror. First it was just to reassure himself that he was still here because between the liquor and the stress, he was slipping (that's what this whole day felt like, slippage). At first it was a relief to check out of the reality of what was for a couple minutes. But when he came back the memory of what he did was fresh in his mind. And he couldn't move. He had to remind himself to breath and it took a great amount of will to get himself to blink away the tears. He took it slow to unthaw. First he adjusted his foot so his standing position was more stable and the shrugging of his shoulders brought some relief.

"Why are you doing this to me?" he whispered to his reflection in the mirror. His brain was still reminding him of everything he'd done. Every fuck up was coming back to him like he was resurrecting ghosts. Craig realized that he shouldn't have even asked that question because the thoughts coming after him were starting to scare him and didn't cease even when he started sobbing. Then he realized that maybe this was what a part of him wanted. It wanted him to acknowledge things he'd rather forget. It wanted him to wake up, maybe deal with whatever this was.

But it felt malicious. Didn't it know that this hurt too much? He wasn't ready for it, not even a little. He felt something burst inside him and he swung his fist at the mirror. It shattered onto the dresser top and left his hand bloody. Maybe he stopped it now. He stopped the noise. But whatever it was, these thoughts that were chasing him down, they were ready to fight back he realized.

Smashing the mirror, taking away his reflection didn't stop whatever it was that he was mentally manifesting. It was becoming so intense that Craig actually backed himself into a corner as if there was someone in the room confronting him.

"Shhhh shhh," Craig whispered. It was almost an attempt to pet his thoughts, to soothe them. Why did they have to sting so much?

It's coming for me, he thought drunk and irrational. He had to get _out_.

* * *

Joey had forgotten to charge his cell phone. Mid-morning it went dead and he attached it to the charger and plugged it into the wall. It wasn't the first time it happened and it wasn't going to be the last; that's why there was voicemail. During a lull at the dealership he sat down to deal with the messages. There was quite a few. First were the norm and Joey opened several bills and scanned them over while listening. The school called, informing him that Craig skipped out of his afternoon classes. Joey signed at that but wasn't too surprised. They wanted to set up a meeting with Ms. Sauvé and he return the call when the time was convenient and set up a time they could sit down with Craig.

He wasn't ditching with a friend, Joey learned next. Ashley was polite (always careful of her words like he knew her to be), although he could hear something in her voice and asked if he knew where Craig was at. Sean was casual, although he could sense the kid was faking it, asking if he had seen Craig lately. Then he heard from Ashley again although he wasn't sure exactly what she was saying about Craig's cell phone and then she broke off, explaining that she had another call.

First he called home and it cut off to the answering machine. He almost began to speak, wanting to ask for Craig. Was he at home? Wherever he was he wasn't answering his cell either. Then Joey began returning calls. At Sean and Ellie's there was no answer. He was dumbstruck when Kate answered the phone and he wasn't sure what to say. Ashley wasn't home he learned. He couldn't help but ask if she heard from Craig and could practically hear Kate's worry vibrate through the telephone line. He ducked out of the call after that, later unsure of what explanation he gave when he followed up on the call.

Then there was Caitlin. She was frantic and rambling, first about explaining why she was at home and then delivered the news. He had to listen to the message several times for it to sink in. Craig's bedroom dresser mirror was shattered. And there was droplets of blood on the shards and a glass on the bedside table, stained with bloody fingertip prints and reeking of whiskey. Craig wasn't there now, leaving behind a handprint on the wall indicating that he must have hurt himself.

"What?" he finally mumbled out loud, confused. Caitlin discovered a bottle of liquor was missing from the cabinet too. "Angie."

Joey hung up the phone after that and quickly dialed her school. He went through the routine of questions and tried not to sound panicked. The end result: she was okay. She was playing with her best friend in the playground, sharing the prized play item jump rope. He hated himself for that thought. Craig wouldn't hurt Angie. He acknowledged that he didn't trust him at times, especially when Albert called him with claims about how Craig wasn't to be trusted. He wanted to run off with her. The kid didn't think. They should stay away.

But he didn't do anything to Angie. Of course he didn't. It had to be some gut instinct where hell or high water, he'd get to his kid. He'd get to her. Then there was Craig. There was words to describe what he was to him. The terms tossed around in court and the dotted lines in family trees. Why was he thinking this now? Craig wouldn't…he couldn't…but he did _something_. He felt it. Craig did something.

* * *

"Did you know that I had a second cousin who killed herself in a swimming pool?" Craig asked Ashley, nearly dropping his cell phone as he switched ears. His fingers felt like jelly but still he didn't think he was drunk and would take another sip.

"What?"

"My mom told me the story while she was in the hospital battling cancer. I don't think she ever meant to. Hopped up on a lot of pain killers. I think maybe she was remembering other times she was there. Once was with me…when she was pregnant with me. About 7 months along. I think she was on bed rest a lot of the time with me. Then in the hospital. I was trouble even then."

Ashley listened to the long pause. She could hear him breathing though. Slow breathing. "Craig?"

"And she was in the same hospital as my cousin who was upstairs in psychiatric. And one day my cousin called her up. And told her things about me, her unborn child. I can't even remember it now. I think I blocked it out. I don't think it was nice things at all."

"She was sick."

"I think she told her I wouldn't make it."

She didn't know what to say to that. Ashley felt her eyes starting to water even though she didn't feel like crying. She didn't feel much of anything. These kind of moments were odd. You should react, you should cry or yell. You should simply do something. But she couldn't do anything. She just sat there listening. A car drove by and a bird chirped but she still felt like she was experiencing this through some filter.

"Maybe a month or so later my mom was back home on bed rest and she gets the news that my cousin killed herself. She did it in a local swimming pool."

"I'm so sorry. Were they close?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I think that's why it bothered her so much. She was totally the relative on my dad's side she was closest with, I think. She told me about when they would hang out but then something happened. Something changed in her. She just became strange and was mixed up in drugs and stuff. I think the same thing happened to me and I'm sorry."

"Where are you at right now? Can I be there with you?"

"No," Craig was quick to reply. Then he shut up, aware of what he was doing. Saying the wrong thing again, saying too much. There were times when he couldn't feel like he could speak. It was different moments during his life where he just didn't want to say it, whatever it was. There was when his parents divorced and his mother died and he trained himself not to speak of her because he hated his father's reaction. Then there was the beatings his father would administer. He still didn't want to talk about that and he recalled how it was so painful pulling the truth out of him. Craig wasn't sure anything had hurt as much as that moment. Except for now.

Ashley listened to Craig sigh again. When he wasn't speaking to her over the phone he was sighing. Craig wasn't even aware when he did it. Maybe he involuntarily did it because he was trying to rid the weight that was in him, just trying to breath. It hurt that much and he didn't even know why. He couldn't say why it hurt because he didn't know why. He should just drop into the water and give in, let himself sink.

"My dad always wondered how she could do something like that. She could swim. She put on a big winter coat even though it was summer and she did it. I guess it helped keep her down." Craig took another gulp of whiskey. He was feeling kind of numb now, his movements sloppy when he set down the bottle. His limbs felt heavy. He didn't need that winter coat.

"My dad's family is full of so much crazy," Craig continued. When they read Edgar Allen Poe's "Fall of The House of Usher" in Kwan's English class Craig couldn't help but think of his own family. If he remembered the family history right, his great-grandfather was an alcoholic who did time in a mental institution. His father's relationship with his grandfather was calmer towards the end, but his father often became angry when he a reminder brought up his childhood and Craig suspected they had a complicated one like he had with his dad. One by one he went through them in his mind it was like lines that tallied up the score for a game. Maybe Roderick Usher was right to try to put an end to his own sister's life. Maybe his dad was right too when he took his own. He had to do it before anyone else got hurt.

He wasn't alarmed by Ash hesitating to reply. Sometimes he wasn't even aware she was there. Craig was feeling that itch increase again. It really felt like he had some internal rash, something was inside him and it wanted out. "Maybe when she and my mom were in the hospital together she did something. Maybe she would make it so I couldn't…do this. Maybe she put something in me," he proclaimed, thinking of his dead relative.

Yeah, Craig just went there and the hair on Ashley's arms stood up. She wasn't going to even let her mind go there. Things like the occult scared her thanks to her own crazy relative who was into Ouija boards and tarot cards. "Why are you talking about this?" Ashley demanded, scared like the time when Craig used to drag the gang to that abandoned hospital and tell stories about suicides in some strange attempt to deal with his father's.

"Maybe she…"

"Craig, where are you at?" Ashley asked, her imagination running wild. For a brief unreal moment she imagined that a soul could actually overtake another one and drive them to what they wanted them to do. The pool. That summer when Craig faked hitting his head. "Craig? Are you at the pool?"

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I don't even know what I'm talking about. I try to fix things and I can't seem to get it right. I miss that summer when things felt so _right_. When we were all so close hanging out at Sean's or sneaking into the pool after hours. I'm just so sorry I messed things up."

"Ash?" Craig questioned after listening to the silence. He heard a rustling sound, like she had been covering up the phone receiver. "Who are you talking to?"

"I miss those days too. Craig, uh…just keep talking to me, alright?" Ashley struggled to think of something that would keep him on the phone.

"Is that Ellie? Are Sean and Ellie with you?"

"Um, yeah. We stopped by your house after school to give you a heads up that they knew you ditched."

He could hear traffic in the background. The car horn made some alarm go off in his brain. Craig shook his head. There was a lot of things he should say but somehow it all didn't seem worth much. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry. Tell Joey that I'm sorry for all the trouble I've caused him."

Then he clicked off the phone and left it on the diving board next to the bottle of Jack Daniels he'd nearly finished off. He pulled on another flannel shirt, then the bulkiest sweat shirt he had. Craig tried not to hesitate on the pool ladder but the water was cold; they hadn't turned on the heater yet and the days weren't hot enough to warm it significantly. He treaded water for a few minutes and appreciated how much weight his extra layers of clothing had added.

The first dunk under water was a failure; he instinctively returned to the surface. Craig went longer the second time, this time using the pool ladder to push himself deeper. It was quiet here under the water. It had always calmed him as a kid and he always tried to stay down for as long as he could, his head playing out some adventure. He had made up challenges for himself, reasons to stay under the water. Sometimes he wouldn't let himself come up until he passed a certain number that he counted off in his head. Maybe he was preparing for this.

He came back up, this time choking and spitting up water. "No," Craig scolded himself out loud. He just had to hold his breath until he passed out. Until he passed out, he repeated to himself as he floated there on his back. His lungs started to burn first and he clenched his fists when they felt like they were going to explode.

Hold on.

Now let go, he prompted himself and rolled over so he was face first in the water.

* * *

"I really hope I'm being overdramatic," Ashley said as they got out of the car too.

"I am too," Sean agreed. "He had been drinking? Hopefully he's just being a moody drunk."

"Did you see the project he was working on for art? He's been coming here for months, maybe over half a year and photographing the place. And I just saw his newest prints. He found a model and had her in the school pool like an Ophelia reenactment."

"He's been asking me about drowning allegories. I thought it was for the project or a new song," Ellie agreed.

"Craig?" Sean called out and tried to peer through the paneling. "I can't see. I don't see him."

"I offered to give him his Kevin Devine CD's back since that's who he's into lately. Said it gets him through the day. And you know what he said? He said that he doesn't need it anymore," Ashley relayed the conversation as the two girls watched Sean start to pull himself up over the fence. When he started moving more frantically, their hearts started to pound.

Sean was in the water first, pushing against the water in the shallow end. He didn't take his eyes off Craig, floating facedown on the other side of the swimming pool. He still didn't believe it; this was a joke. A cruel joke but still a joke. Craig wasn't serious. He expected, or hoped, that once he was in arm's reach Craig would grab him and pull him under, coming up laughing.

But when he turned him over, Craig was unresponsive and even bobbed back under the water slightly. Sean wasn't a good swimmer and struggled to keep himself and his friend afloat. They moved more quickly with Ashley by his side, pulling Craig along towards the pool edge. In the pool he floated along but it was more of a struggle to get him onto the dry ground without the weightlessness that water gave them. Petite Ellie wasn't able to pull her friend very far out of the water and the solution, which felt like it took them hours to reach, was for Sean to exit the pool and hoist Craig out by lifting him under his arms. He'd never seen a drowning victim before. Not even from a distance so actually handling one, so heavy and limp, was surreal. The only thing Ellie could compare it to was when she'd put her unresponsive mother into bed after she'd passed out after drinking a pint or two of vodka.

All three kneeled over him, not fully prepared for this. They were wasting time, they knew. You can't go for very long without oxygen.

"Is he breathing?"

Ashley didn't think he was and they silently decided she was the one to attempt to resuscitate him since she had pressed her mouth to him before. She never thought she would actually have to perform CPR on a living person. Handling the plastic dummy in health class was stressful enough. She was thankful she paid attention and didn't use the time as a break from the usual sitting at a desk which meant a chance to chat with friends while they watched the demonstration. But she didn't know if she was breathing often enough for Craig once she started mouth to mouth rescue breathing and worried about busting a rib with the chest compressions.

She must have done something right because Craig jerked up some and began to spit up water and cough. Sean rolled him over onto his side so he wouldn't choke and couldn't help but reassure, "You are going to be okay."

"I'll call Joey," Ellie suddenly realized that it hadn't dawned on them to call for help until now and hurried off to retrieve one of their cell phones from the car.

Craig continued his coughing fit, causing his stomach to ache and he started to vomit. Sean pulled him so he was sitting upright so he wouldn't choke. From the stench, Sean figured Craig was bringing up the bottle of whiskey he downed. Did this really just happen? Craig wiped his mouth post puking and that was when his friends saw the bright red blood trickle down his hand. They shot each other a look, confused and alarmed by the damage this guy had managed to do to himself today.

"What happened to your hand?" Sean questioned and reached for his friend's right hand. He was surprised by the force Craig used to jerk away from him. Up until now the guy was so disorientated that the worry of brain damage crept into his mind. They didn't know how long he was under water for.

"I just want to take a look, maybe wrap it up to stop the bleeding," Sean explained and reached for Craig again.

"Don't touch me," Craig angrily muttered.

"Craig, it's okay. Just…" Sean didn't get to finish because Craig suddenly getting to his feet surprised him and he forgot to finish. What was the guy doing? Sean was quick and grabbed Craig's waist, pulling him down onto the concrete and Craig only succeeded in getting a hand into the water.

Ashley watched as the two boys wrestled, rolling around on the ground. She hadn't moved from the spot she took while she leaned over Craig to resuscitate him. She didn't know what she was feeling. Numb, maybe in the way that your mind tends to separate you from a situation you cannot handle. Scared for certain; this wasn't the Craig she knew.

"Man, what are you doing?!" Sean exclaimed once he had Craig pinned down on the ground He couldn't be sure of anything at this point, it was all too surreal, and wasn't 100% sure he wanted to accept that his friend had just made an attempt at his life. He released him and watched as Craig scrambled for the pool again. Sean moved and tackled him quickly, bringing Craig down to the ground and inducing a coughing fit that seemed to stun him.

Sean didn't mean to hurt him. That was the last thing he wanted to do, still not sure of what damage Craig did to himself by this point. He tried to use as little force as possible as he pulled him away from the water's edge and up against the chain link fence, hands firm on Craig's shoulders. "Knock it off! You are not doing this!"

Everything was fragmented in Craig's mind; what happened before, what he did, what he intended. What did he do? The trouble with this suicide bug he somehow came down with is that every time it wasn't ever something final; he just wanted to shut his brain off. While he tried to off himself, he regretted not spending time treading water to wear himself out. Maybe he didn't need to much effort in that because he dropped down, exhausted. Sean still had his hands on him and there was Ashley leaning in close to him. Craig looked over both them, probably appearing confused.

"What did you do? What did you do?" Ashley repeated, seeming to echo the distant noises in Craig's head.

Ash and Sean were both cold after the dip into freezing water but neither was shaking as violently as Craig was. Both wondered if they got to him in time. His persistent coughing would interrupt his trembling. They just wanted him to say something. That would give them some hope that the guy was alright.

"You are okay right?" Ashley asked and pressed her forehead against Craig's. "You will be okay."

"I'm so cold," he mumbled as he shook.

Ellie returned, this time through the main pool entrance she had opened on her way out, with Joey. They joined Ashley and Sean who were kneeling beside Craig. All four kept touching him reassuringly, sometimes squeezing his hand, rubbing his shoulder, or brushing a wet lock of hair off his forehead. Craig couldn't feel any of it.

"What's going on?" Joey asked, confused by what Ellie had said on the phone. Almost drowned? Had been drinking? He took his coat off and draped it over his stepson's shoulders. He gently rubbed the back of Craig's neck, trying to get him to look up. He wouldn't.

"Just tell me. Craig, I won't be angry," Joey encouraged but received no response. Joey looked to Craig's friends for an explanation, "Someone tell me what's going on."

"We found him in the pool," Sean said softly, looking down at his friend, "He…he was just floating there facedown. We pulled him out and Ash gave him mouth to mouth and he came around."

"You can swim," Joey said to Craig, his tone slightly accusing.

"After he came to…he was acting like he wanted to…try again," Sean was having a difficult time getting this out. "I think he was trying to off himself."

"I talked to him on the phone before. That's how we knew where he was. He kept talking about a relative who killed herself, drowned herself," Ashley added. Then she noticed of Craig, "How many layers of clothes are you wearing? You said that she did it wearing a winter coat."

"Okay. Okay," Joey was still trying to wrap his head around this. He didn't know it was that bad. Whatever Craig was going through, it was that bad. But he didn't know. He didn't know. He rubbed his son's back and decided what he should do. "Come on, Craig. Let's go."

Joey stood and extended a hand to Craig, who didn't respond. Joey then took Craig's arm and Sean the other and they brought him to his feet.

"Let's go," Joey repeated. He decided not to announce his decision just yet, afraid of Craig's reaction once he found out he wasn't going home.

"Just give up," Craig mumbled.

"What?"

"Give up on me," Craig pleaded, tired and defeated. If he had the energy he'd go for the pool again. If it were an option. A small burst of desire to finish the job off went off in him and he told himself he'd have that moment. He couldn't plan it though. Not now. His head was fuzzy, but not because he was intoxicated. It was something new and strange. For a moment he considered that he died. He felt that empty.

"No. We're not going to give up on you."

* * *

"Kate's been trying to get a hold of you for the past hour. You know how she goes on a rampage about calling if you aren't going to be home," Toby greeted his stepsister. He didn't even bother to look up from the TV.

"Well, I'm home now," Ashley replied, pulling off her soggy shoes so she wouldn't leave wet footprints on the carpet.

"Joey has been calling all afternoon. What did Craig do now?"

She almost went off on her stepbrother. And Ashley hated feeling angry; it was the one emotion that made her feel out of control and that was something that scared the hell out of her. Out of all of their sibling rivalry and the annoying habits Toby had, this was the moment when she thought she might actually go after him with swinging fists. He had no idea what he was talking about right now. No idea, Ashley mentally repeated to herself. That's right, he didn't know. So she pushed down this uncontrollable rage and started to head upstairs to wash the scent of chlorine from her hair and change, like that might help remove the reminders of today.

"Dinner's in a half hour," Toby relayed this info and finally looked up. Ashley's clothes were wet. "What happened? Ash?"

She didn't tell her family what happened that afternoon. Ashley wasn't sure how long she could keep that a secret but she figured she could fight off the questions until dinner was through. She didn't want to know their reactions. She sensed her mother never had liked Craig, even once saying in an argument that he wasn't the right guy for her. Jeff hadn't had much of an opinion to weigh in until Craig ran away from home for a week and one night arrived at their house drunk. Now he sided with her mom, weary of Craig. Toby did too and expressed his worry about Craig's rage when he handed over his textbooks to return to him after Craig exploded in the library during their tutoring session. It was actually turning out to be a productive thing to worry about their responses to his suicide attempt and put off having her own reaction. She didn't want to think about Craig did.

The phone rang as she was putting her plate in the sink. She had done a fairly decent job of pretending to eat and what she did manage to swallow felt like it was going to nearly choke her.

"St. Brigid's hospital?" Kate questioned as she looked over the phone ID. She was thankful that her kids were home and whatever news they had, wasn't about them. She was stunned by the voice on the other end of the line.

"Ashley, Joey's on the phone. He's asked to talk to you."

Kate watched as Ashley's face faded to a pale white and when she had gathered herself enough to speak, her voice shook as she asked, "Is Craig alright?"

"I think he's going to be fine. I hope he's going to be fine," Joey reassured and Ashley could still hear the worry in his voice. "He's been admitted to the ER and they are observing his blood oxygen levels and making sure that his lungs are alright. The doctor needs to know how long you think he was under water for. How long do you think he was without oxygen?"

Ashley really didn't want to remember. She didn't want to remember the conversation she had with Craig prior to arriving at the pool or what he looked like when they pulled him out of the water. But she had to let herself go back and try to gather up the specifics. "I was on the phone with Craig and once he realized that we knew where he was at, he quit answering his cell. I don't know how long it took us to get there. It couldn't have been more than five minutes, but maybe it just felt that long. He couldn't have been under that long."

"Okay. It's okay. It doesn't sound like he was under long enough to do serious damage," Joey sighed with relief.

"I don't think he was breathing, Joey. I had to give him CPR…I didn't hurt him did I?"

"I'm sure you did everything fine." Joey himself still didn't know all the details. The staff was always quick in the ER, taking his kid off and urging him that it was best for him to wait outside.

"Are they admitting him to the hospital? When is he coming home?"

Joey hesitated. "I told the staff it wasn't an accidental drowning. I don't think they…I…we…can let him come home."

Ashley nodded at that and was quiet for a moment. Then she found some strength to finish the conversation, "I'll be thinking about him. Let me know if there's anything I can do."

"Ashley? Thank you."

She hoped that she said goodbye but she couldn't even remember running up the stairs to retreat to her bedroom. It was then that she allowed herself to cry. But the tears weren't bringing her any relief. Instead every emotion seemed to pound inside of her. She worried for Craig and stressed if she and her friends did everything right. Then there was the guilt, they should have known. Craig hadn't been Craig for awhile now and today there was nothing there that reminded her of him. She was sad for him; maybe he just wanted to be with his parents was a depressing thought that popped into her brain. She couldn't imagine being without them. Ashley was beginning to understand why Craig's reactions to his father's suicide were so complex despite the abuse. A part of her expected him to dance on his grave. But instead he had so many different reactions and emotions towards it and she felt herself going there and it was like falling down a hole.

The anger came back again. Even if he didn't have his birth parents, Craig had Joey, Caitlin, and Angie. And he had her. And his friends. Needing a release, she started to look for things to throw. She pulled books and CD's off of shelves and declared Craig a selfish asshole for wanting to leave them. Then she moved towards the bed, yanking the bedding off and tossing it across the room.

"Ashley!" her mother proclaimed when she entered the room. "What are you doing?"

Ash dropped down beside her stripped bed and declared the news, "Craig tried to kill himself today."

"Oh Ash," Kate sighed and took her daughter into her arms. She just let her cry and rubbed small circles on her back to comfort her. It always broke her heart to see her child upset and if she could save her from any pain, she would do it. Craig was bound to cause that, inadvertently or not.

"Craig has problems, a lot of problems," Kate said, this time in a consoling tone and not out of annoyance when she gripped to her husband about the latest drama Ashley was mixed up in because of Craig. Sadly, Joey Jeremiah calling from a hospital about his teen son wasn't that much of a shock. She hoped this was his bottom and now the only place to go was up. She consoled her daughter with, "Now he can get the help that he needs."

* * *

Sean left his wet clothes in a pile on the bathroom floor and retreated into a hot shower, still occasionally shivering. They had drove home in silence, not bothering to turn on the radio and the only sound was the whoosh of the heater since Sean was still cold and wet from the incident at the pool. It felt safest to call it an incident.

The steady sound of the water hitting the bathtub floor and the pulsing sensation of it hitting his back relaxed him, taking him away from the memory of today a little bit. But then he closed his eyes when he ducked his head under the stream of water and all he saw was the image of Craig floating face down in the pool. Normally memories weren't that vivid. They were usually more subtle, missing details and the black of your eyelids filled in the gaps.

He held his breath as he stood there, wondering how in the world Craig managed to pull off nearly drowning himself. It was one thing to think of something but to actually get your body to betray its natural instincts and let him go under, breathing in that icy cold water. Craig must've checked himself out mentally, Sean reasoned. That was the only thing that made sense because how else could have he done something so incredibly selfish? His friend knew how much his father's suicide messed him up and he didn't care what it was going to do to him, Ellie, Ashley, Joey, Angie…the list went on.

He pulled his head out from under the shower stream, brushed the water from his face, and was stunned by the sight he saw when he opened his eyes.

"Ellie?" Sean actually said out loud and flipped back his wet hair, surprised by seeing her in the shower with him. He couldn't help but let his eyes wander over her bare skin. It wasn't that he had never seen her nude. He had seen her pull on clothes in the mornings and when they had sex. But they made love often late at night and his roaming hands and the flickering street light outside the window was the only thing that gave him an idea.

It was unusual for her to be this forward with her intention clear, he thought. He figured it was because of the scars on her arms…and he had felt them on her thighs, the skin raised and he ran his fingers over them as if they were brail and told him a story she never verbally had. He told her over and over that it didn't freak him out but she always seemed a little unsure.

She seemed confident now though, being the first to move in and press her lips and body against his. It wasn't right for them to be doing this, he worried. Not after what happened today. He shouldn't be reveling in this moment of washing Ellie's red hair, the smell of her fruity shampoo so ripe in his nose. He knew that smell well from the times they had embraced. While some days they just barely got by, frustrated by bills that seemed to age them faster their peers but other times he took pleasure in the details; two toothbrushes by the bathroom sink or her clothes that dominated the closet. She was still here.

"Thank you," Ellie mumbled after rinsing her hair.

"I'll wash your hair for you every day if that's what you want," Sean replied with a smile.

"No. I mean…thank you for still being here," she whispered near Sean's ear and started to kiss his neck. "Just stay." Today was life-altering in a way and she didn't think any of them would forget just how close to over Craig's life was. But aside from being a surreal and scary experience it served as the reminder that people were always capable of leaving. Some became wrapped up in themselves as they hit the bottle, others left off to fight wars, and sometimes they just moved away. In the end, all you had was moments.

They were grateful for this one, for being there with each other and remained in the shower until the water ran cold.

* * *

Joey returned home late that evening. Not because he wanted to, but because he had to. He had hoped to enter the house quietly so he would not awaken Angie, who crashed on the couch with a Disney movie playing on the TV screen. He didn't even get close to moving her up to bed because she bolted up and demanded to know where Craig was. What was he supposed to say?

"Craig's sick. He's in the hospital." Joey left it at that, not knowing how to explain what happened that day and what ward Craig was in now.

"I know. I know he's been sick. Why didn't you know he was this sick? Why did you let this happen?" she asked with tears in her eyes. Dads were supposed to stop things like.

Angie's response hit him hard. He had hoped that his daughter was oblivious to whatever Craig was going through since she was fully occupied with Barbie dolls and the troubles between little girls on the school playground. But she knew. And they all knew that something wasn't right with Craig. They just didn't know what it was or what was supposed to be done about it. Details were kept from Angie but later that night Joey spilled the whole story to Caitlin over coffee at the kitchen table, the lights and their voices low.

"I bet Craig wasn't happy to arrive at the hospital at all," Caitlin remarked, remembering the drama of the last time he was admitted because he was being monitored for alcohol poisoning. What else could you expect of a kid who ran away from home and would rather take chances on the streets than be hospitalized for treatment?

"He actually didn't have much of a reaction until we were inside. I don't think that was even Craig. I refuse to remember him that way," Joey was still struggling with the memory. The only emotion he could pick up on in Craig was depression. Or maybe it was defeat; they had stopped him. _"Just give up on me," _Craig had said_._ His kid was like a zombie, allowing him to lead him out of the swimming pool park and to the car, and then into the hospital emergency room. He had kept an arm around him the whole time and rubbed Craig's shoulder when he tried to explain to a nurse what had happened, who acted quickly once he said Craig nearly drowned.

It was only when they rolled up the hospital gurney that Craig had looked up at him and he saw a glimpse of something that used to be Craig, that there was something still inside him. He could see the questions in his eyes; what's going on, why are you doing this to me, don't you know I've been here before and I hate hospitals? It took a lot of persuading and strong hands to get the kid to lay down. "It's okay," Joey kept encouraging, stroking Craig's hair, and somehow managing a reassuring smile. He hoped Craig's agitation, his flinching at touch and the confused looks he gave the staff, was because he was still drunk and not any long term damage of being without oxygen.

"They wouldn't let me stay with him. I didn't see him until later. Thankfully the staff kept in contact. You know how it was when he nearly drank himself to death? That's what the questions were like," Joey continued.

"Was it an accident?" While Caitlin was relieved that Craig was still in the hospital there was a part of her that hoped that's what it was. She thought they all wanted to believe that he just hit the bottle, decided to go for a swim, and passed out.

"I don't think so. They didn't think so either, not with his hospital records in front of them." Now Joey had to hear the phrase 'multiple suicide attempts' being tossed around while the staff tried to persuade him to admit his kid to the psychiatric ward upstairs. He still didn't think it was real. Not even when they let him into the ER and he got to see Craig, surprisingly still and calm (he figured they must have given him something) with an oxygen mask on, pulse oximeter on his finger to assess his oxygen levels, and a bandage on his hand. A few stitches was the only price Craig paid after smashing that mirror.

"But he's okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, he'll be okay. He's on antibiotics now, hopefully to prevent him from coming down with pneumonia. I guess that's common with near drowning victims, especially in cold water," Joey paused, recalling how violently Craig would shake and how he never really stopped coughing, even when grabbing a cat nap in the ER. "The staff was concerned about his body temperature. It was bad enough being in cold water but his temp had also dropped considerably after he downed that bottle of Jack. They kept him in the ER until they were sure his blood oxygen level was normal and they knew that he was alright and alert enough to acknowledge that we were taking him upstairs to psychiatric."

"I think you did the right thing, admitting him to the psych ward." Caitlin consoled Joey after the conversation reached a lull because he had zoned out. That was what she kept doing, reassuring him that he was making the correct choice. He had called her from the hospital parking lot right after Craig had been admitted, sounding like he still had doubts. She reminded him of the broken mirror, how he raided the liquor cabinet, and that Craig was found facedown and unresponsive at the pool. What the teen did, he was serious, and they didn't know what he would do if he brought him home.

"It was so hard to leave him there. That's what he's afraid of the most, that people leave. And I left him. I don't know how he's going to take that. I know it's like what the head nurse said; he might be angry at first but later understand. But you didn't have to see his face."

_He returned to Craig's hospital room after signing more forms and giving a verbal summary of Craig's life to yet another staff member. This time it was the head nurse, who would nod her head when he mentioned that Craig had a history of running away from home and drug abuse. She probably heard it all the time and knew the right question to follow up on. His father committed suicide? Is there a history of mental illness in his family? It went on and on and the stack of papers he was given was growing higher by the minute. _

_He had signed the final form and it was then the nurse prompted him to say goodbye to his son. Joey felt like he was giving him away, despite that she reassured him that this wasn't for an extended time. They just wanted to get Craig stable. This was getting surreal. He couldn't believe he was doing this. At least Craig wasn't locked in a hospital room, Joey reflected as he sat down next to Craig on the twin bed. He was still in the hospital gown they had put on him downstairs and the nurse was fastening an ID bracelet to his wrist._

"_How are you doing?" he asked warmly, rubbing Craig's arm. He got a shrug and a cough in return._

"_Do you understand all that's going on?" Joey asked, carefully studying his stepson's face. Craig had never seemed so far away from him. He watched as Craig nodded and then Joey continued with "So you know that I have to leave you here. I can't stay with you."_

_Craig kept his head low and nodded again. Joey noticed how his shoulders were slouched forward some, like he had a heavy weight on his back. He knew his kid was unhappy this past month but he could actually see the depression in him physically now._

"_Craig, this isn't a punishment. It's to help you get better," the head nurse reassured._

"_It'll be okay," Joey said softly as he pulled Craig into a hug. "I'll call you tomorrow okay?"_

"_You aren't going to come see me?" Craig replied and Joey was almost surprised he spoke._

"_We ask that family and friends don't visit for the first 48 hours, Craig. It will make it easier on you. Sometimes it can be hard to say goodbye in situations like these and we don't want you to have to endure that repeatedly. After the first 2 days, it is much easier because you are settled in," the nurse explained._

"_I need some clothes though. And what about school?" Craig broke apart from his stepfather's embrace to argue._

_Joey could see that Craig's chest was moving faster now, like he was starting to panic. He started to rock back and forth some and Joey put an arm around him to get him to stop, worried about the hospital staff's evaluation of this behavior. "I'll bring some clothes by tomorrow okay? Don't worry about it, buddy. And school? You can't tell me that you are actually going to miss going there," Joey tried to reassure with a smile. "It'll be okay. I'll call you tomorrow night."_

"_I can't miss a bunch of school."_

"_We arrange a program with the school, Craig. You will have school in the mornings. We have a tutor come in," the nurse added._

"_See? Everything's taken care of. Just take it easy tonight. You need to rest after the day you've had." _

_The head nurse was encouraging him towards the door now. It was going to take a great force of will to do this with how Craig was staring at him. Joey thought that he had only seen his expression this sad at Julia's funeral. Craig feared that everyone would eventually leave, either by death or decide that they didn't love him anymore. And here he was walking out the door and could only reassure, "I'll call you tomorrow."_

_He glanced over his shoulder only once as the head nurse ushered him down the hall and saw that Craig was lingering in the doorway, another staff member beside him like he was preventing the teen from following. Joey nervously jangled his keys and loose change in his pocket as he watched the nurse swipe a card through a device by the door. A buzzer sounded and she placed a hand on his shoulder to persuade him out into another hallway. That was the door that locked._

"_I'm not sure I'm doing the right thing, leaving him here," Joey declared and that prompted the nurse to wait with him by the elevator after making to see the door was secure. "He's going to feel abandon."_

"_Maybe temporarily, but he will understand later," the head nurse paused. "I feel very strongly that you should keep Craig here. At least for a few days. This is the best way to keep him safe. You don't know if he will make another attempt if you bring him home right now."_

"_I can take him out after a few days?"_

"_Yes. You are his guardian, you can make that decision. But keep in mind that it might be against medical advice."_

"_He might be a lot better by then."_

"_Mr. Jeremiah, your son has made a suicide attempt. He's probably going to need awhile longer to become stable and that needs to happen in a safe environment. That's here at the hospital."_

"_48 hours right?" Joey looked for reassurance as the elevator doors opened._

"_Yes. And you can drop off his belongings before then when it is convenient for you."_

_The doors then closed and the countdown mentally started in Joey's head._

"When can we see him?" Caitlin asked.

Joey shook his head. "They said that it's best if we don't see him for the next 48 hours. Helps him get settled in. Goodbyes are hard, I guess," Joey sighed. What was he supposed to do for all that time? "He doesn't even have a change of clothes. I should get some things together for him."

When Joey entered Craig's room, he saw that Caitlin had cleaned up the broken glass. He shook his head, unable to imagine what was going through Craig's head when that happened. Maybe he should have let him stay home from school. Joey recalled the black eye Craig came home with a week ago. He had claimed that he took a field hockey stick to his face but now Joey started to wonder. Maybe he was having troubles with another kid at school. Maybe that was the trigger that set off today's terrible sequence of events. There had to be a reason. It was easier to think that the problem was in school and not here at home.

"Need any help?" Caitlin offered from the doorway. Joey just shook his head in return. This was something he wanted to do on his own. "Okay. Maybe we can watch some late night talk show before bed? Get your mind off things?"

Joey was doubtful of that. He wouldn't laugh and wasn't sure he could even follow along with which ever celebrity was interviewed. Maybe he should just try to stay busy. That had to be why he found himself cleaning up Craig's room. He made his bed, gathered the dirty laundry for the wash tomorrow, and picked his belongings off the floor. In a way it made him feel closer to Craig at that moment. He got to see what CD's he was listening to most often and what magazines he recently purchased. There was no reason for him to touch Craig's camera or guitar but he did so anyway, trying to remember the kid who played in a garage band and loved photography and art museums.

He started to snoop, mentally using the excuse as he didn't know what Craig would need in the hospital ward. They were going to arrange a tutoring program with the school so textbooks were a must. Joey sighed at the sight of Craig's science textbook that didn't make it to class today. And that brought on the realization that he was going to have to explain the day's events to the staff. He felt a sense of dread like he was the one waiting to be called into the principal's office. He didn't want to talk about what happened today. He hoped they would be understanding and whatever had been building up in Craig wouldn't cost him his school year.

Joey didn't know how he missed the signs. He knew Craig wasn't happy these past few weeks, maybe longer than that. "I messed up, Craig. And I'm sorry," Joey quietly apologized. Maybe he didn't want to see what was going on. Maybe the funny thing about life was that he was the cliché in the Lifetime movies Caitlin would shamelessly watch on the weekends; he was the dad who saw what he wanted to see while others saw him as the clueless parent. Their reactions were always so strong and dramatic. There was yelling between married partners and shipping troubled kids off to brat camps. And here he was and felt nothing, numb after Craig's attempt at his life.

He started to dig through Craig's desk. So curious for answers and simply looking for reminders of the kid he once knew. He opened a drawer and found it was filled with photographs, magazine clippings, and a few collages in progress. A mess of art supplies; pens, charcoal pencils, and boxes of film. He made sure to shake one, recalling how the film canister was a favorite place to stash pills. The answer was negative. He knew that already from the toxicology report the doctor delivered. So he wasn't on drugs, then what was wrong?

The bottom drawer was filled with notebooks. They were different from the ones that sat on the desk's surface; those contained half-assed attempts at notes as Craig struggled to pay attention in class, humorous illustrations of his high school teachers, and the occasional evidence of the notebook being passed around between friends during the school day. That wasn't what was in these. These notebooks were something he shouldn't be reading Joey thought when he recognized some song lyrics and then lengthier paragraphs of words, streams of personal thoughts. He must be in the Craig Manning archives. The kid wasn't organized by any means but somehow managed to keep a collection of sketches, lyrics on coffeehouse napkins, and images torn from magazines.

Yes, he shouldn't be reading this. He closed the drawer but lied to himself, said that he was looking for homework, and kept sifting through papers on the surface of the desk. Underneath a folder of photography negatives was a thick paper folder from a one hour photo place. The urge was too much and he re-broke the seal, certain that the pictures had been looked at before. It was like flipping through one of those booklets he had handled during elementary school, the ones where the story slowly played out on the page in animation form. It wasn't as smooth of story. Some of the pictures were merely pretty colors to him; an aqua blue or a murky blend of colors that made him wonder if Craig accidentally dropped his camera into a mud puddle. Then he saw it. The empty shot of the swimming pool, compositionally styled well like Craig had spent awhile trying to get the shot just right. It was the pool he had picked Craig up at today and it was obvious that it wasn't the first time he had been there. These photos almost seemed to document it like he was trying to get comfortable with the place, preparing for what he ultimately wanted to do. Go down. Drown.

Before Joey just felt emotionally drained and dead inside. Now he was a bit physically numb and strangely dreamy from poking around in Craig's room, trying to go someplace he couldn't follow Craig to and couldn't ever understand. He had to get back to reality and start packing. His kid was in a psychiatric ward and needed clean clothes for tomorrow. He didn't know how much to pack and ended up sitting on the bed next to a heaping pile of clothes and other belongings, worried about how long Craig would be away and what he would need.

It still didn't seem real. Craig was in a psychiatric ward right now. His thoughts were always returning to what Craig was doing at that moment. He had read through a stack of forms the hospital had sent home with him and every now and then, an excerpt of what he had read would drift up to the forefront of his mind. _"The child or adolescent cannot be restrained physically or chemically without approval from the head psychiatrist. An exception is if the child is an immediate threat to himself. Parents or legal guardians will be promptly informed. Once the child or adolescent is settled and has regained self control, seclusion or restraint should be terminated. Verbal and written orders are limited to one hour for children under age 9 and 2 hours for individuals ages 9-17. The order for continuation of restraint must be made by a qualified registered nurse or other trained individual. A licensed independent practitioner must perform an in-person reevaluation at least every 4 hours for individuals 17 years and younger." _Joey couldn't imagine Craig strapped down to a bed or even given a shot to calm him if it was against his will. He wanted to yank him out of the ward at that moment. With a sigh, he realized that he might not be able to keep him safe here. He would just have to pray that Craig would not have an uncharacteristic outburst.

Uncharacteristic? Was it? He kept rationalizing the yelling and the punching of a wall; Craig was a moody teenager, he should be allowed to be angry after the way his father treated him, or that he was just a bit of a wild child. He should have known. In an effort to relieve his guilt Joey tried to argue that he thought that Craig would be fine after he was removed from his father's home. The problem was gone and he would be fine. Craig was nothing like his father. Maybe Snake was right and he wasn't seeing what was there. Maybe he didn't want to see what was there. Not that he knew what it was, but whatever it was had been there for quite awhile. And it had brought them to the point where his kid had to be hospitalized and he felt like a failure, not wanting to explain the situation to Degrassi Community School over the phone tomorrow to explain his absence.

Craving some sort of relief from the heaviness, Joey confessed it out loud, "Julia, Craig's in the hospital."

* * *

**Author's Note: **

Longest chapter to date! Sorry for the wait. I'm calling it good and putting it up. Hope there isn't too many mistakes. Reviews are much appreciated!

Craig is a bit scary in this chapter. He's not even really himself. I debated on having him hit Evie and asked a few Degrassi watching friends what they thought and they seemed forgiving of him if he was out of it, it wasn't a recurring thing, and he showed remorse. So I decided to run with it and take Craig to a very, very dark place. And some people think Craig on the show is bad!

I had always intended for Craig to attempt suicide in a pool (hence the foreshadowing in chapter 23) so it is not inspired at all by whatever it was Ellie was doing in Degrassi Goes Hollywood when she waded into two feet of water and didn't even get her hair wet.

Speaking of Craig's suicide attempt, it took me forever to figure out how to fit this in because besides for Degrassi Community School pumping out celebrity student after celebrity student, they also apparently live in a bubble where it's continually lovely weather. Having never been to Toronto, I just assume their weather is of the miserable snowy winter/hot summer variety like Midwest state I grew up in the US so that puts swimming pool season either when the school year is ending or starting up.

The next chapter is going to focus on Craig's experiences in a psychiatric ward. His friends and Joey are going to visit, of course, but I'm currently brainstorming characters I'd like him to meet while 'locked up.' This includes patients (male and female) and staff. So any suggestions are welcome.

Thanks for reading!


	31. Locked Up

**31: Locked Up**

Craig woke up slowly, taking in small amounts of what was around him and who he was. He saw the empty untouched twin bed across from him first. The blankets wrapped around him were thinner and stiffer than the one he always woke up in bed at Joey's. What? Still groggy and unsure, he had to look for something more familiar. Was this even him? He knew the lines on his hands and how his facial features would feel when he ran a hand over his eyes to brush the sleep out of them. This was him. He took a deep breath, curious if he was even still here, and his body answered him back with a cough.

More of his senses returned and he could smell the chlorine on his skin and in his hair. His memory poked at him a little, a sort of a 'hey you, time to wake up now.' He remembered being upset. There was a bandage on his hand and an explanation of that came to him in the flash of a memory of glass shattering. It was strange how now he couldn't even remember the sequence of events but he just knew that it was the kind of thing that scared the shit out of him. It didn't even seem possible that he would go that far into his head where it would drive him to a bottle of whiskey and then to drown himself in a swimming pool.

This wasn't something he would do, Craig reasoned when he noticed the hospital gown. Did it actually happen? Yesterday was still in fragments and he was confused about that as well as the strange environment he was in. There was no medical equipment around that beeped and flashed with its red numbers. Instead it was something he could only compare to a dorm room or the space he shared with a peer at camp; matching twin beds, desks, and closets. The bare white walls felt more like a hospital room; he remembered staring at them when he didn't want to watch his mother lying in her hospital bed dying of cancer.

_Manning, Craig _was what the hospital ID bracelet on his wrist said. Then it reminded him where he was; _Adolescent __Psychiatric_. He had a vague memory of Joey leaving but he couldn't be sure if that was just a dream (and he always dreamt of this) or the actual recollection of the time his step dad told him to stay away from Angela and himself because his dad didn't want it. He hated remembering those days. Joey should have just hit him instead. It might hurt less than that sting of rejection. He doesn't want you around, like dad said. Dad didn't really seem to want him around either. What were these thoughts that were looping around in his tired head?

His eyes were droopy now and maybe he had a shot of sleep relieving him from this. He moved his head ever so slightly so it wouldn't throb and glanced at the window; he couldn't be sure of the time but the light indicated the sun was rising. He couldn't remember falling asleep last night. Sleep? That never happened. He actually rarely slept, unless he had a little chemical help. But that didn't keep him out. No he would always wake up from a nightmare and if he wasn't anxious from that, it was because he was itching with a craving to get a quick fix from his secret stash or write a song.

On a "good day," he didn't need the sleep. The concept didn't even sound like it applied to him. Because he simply had this yearning, like he was chasing something. He had his dreams of becoming an accomplished musician or photographer. He was so sure. It felt like it was in reach. It was so close and he couldn't be still. If he was still for too long it would disappear. It would flirt with him and then it left, like everything else.

God, he wanted to feel that way again. Just for a few minutes, an hour. He'd take what he could get because other times whatever it was that lived inside him just kept him tossing and turning in bed, irritable and doubting everything. This was probably the worst because as exhausted as he was, he couldn't sleep. He felt restless, but was too weak from sadness. And he would just lay there and wish for sleep. Anything that would take him away from this and he could escape from what was here, in him. He still was convinced that something else was making him do the things he did. Yesterday…the pool…that wasn't something he would do. Did it even happen? Craig's eyes were closed now and he saw nothing.

Last night felt so black. It was like something inside of him was reset. He had felt this before. Despite all his internal aching wounds, there was a part of him that was surprisingly at peace. The first time he oded on pills intentionally and woke up, he was a whirlwind of emotions but at the very core of it there was something that felt calm. It was contradictory but the attempt at his life made him feel more alive. Just 14 and weak from a stomach pump, the nurse brought in chicken noodle soup and he could still remember how strange it was to be eating like he was alive and a normal human being. It almost felt like he had been reborn; given another shot and allowed to appreciate all these details. At the center of the storm of all the repercussions of what he did, what his father did to him, there was calmness. And the thought that maybe he finally killed whatever it was that made him do the things he did.

He was still grateful to be alive. It felt a little hazy, complicated. There were nights he took enough pills and alcohol and quietly hoped he wouldn't wake up (he never told anyone about that and didn't plan on it now). Craig never thought much of it afterward; he woke up and then he had to stop aching. But now? He could feel the heat of his breath and the way he twitched a little before slipping further towards sleep…and he appreciated the sensation. He wanted to be alive. He wanted to feel the subtle details of being alive like how it felt when he took a breath. He wanted to be somewhere. He wanted to be here. Whatever Joey and Ms. Sauvé would say about what he did at the pool, they were wrong. He wanted to be here. If he could just be here but not be here things would be so much easier. The dark blankness of sleep washed over him and it felt like a blessing.

* * *

"What?" Craig mumbled, feeling his mind roll over from sleep and into alertness. There was a feeling of tightness on his arm.

"Good morning," a stranger's voice greeted. "Just taking your vitals."

It took a moment or two for him to be able to focus on the face. The guy was young, maybe fresh out of school. From the way he was taking his blood pressure and temperature, he figured he must be a nurse. He was dressed in street clothes however, not like the staff he used to see that worked with his father in his hospital ward. Craig's eyes scanned over the card pinned to his shirt: Andrew. This whole experience was strange, he thought to himself as his eyes fluttered shut.

"No, Craig. I'm sorry but you've got to get up now. We let you sleep in since you were admitted to the ward late last night and we haven't set up a program with your school for tutoring. But you have to get up now."

Craig struggled to obey. This hangover was a bad one. He would have liked a good half hour or more to get used to the idea of moving. The slight turning of his head made it throb and his eyes were dry and sore. What did he do yesterday? Jack Daniels whiskey. He was upset. Oh yeah. At least he was still groggy enough so that the thought of what he did at the pool didn't faze him much. This all didn't seem real.

He fell into the nurse's arms after rising out of bed. All he could do was look up at him wearily. What did I do, he wondered to himself.

"Hey. Craig. You feeling okay? I know yesterday was a heck of a day for you."

They knew what he did. Of course they did. "I'm just kind of hung over."

"Maybe a shower will help wake you up."

Andrew had a hand on his shoulder as he escorted him out of his hospital room and down the hall. The hallway looked more like a hospital with its shiny tiled floor and rooms that lined up on either side of the hallway. It was strangely quiet but Craig was thankful for that with the way his head was pounding. Two other nurses greeted him once they arrived at the nurse's station, where they gave him the bottle of shampoo and soap for the shower. Then Andrew handed over a stack of clothes.

"Joey will be dropping by some clothes for you later today. Hospital scrubs are the best we can do," he explained Craig's wardrobe switch from a hospital gown to scrubs.

Did he arrive in the ward in his wet clothes? It took him a moment to recall. He remembered walking into the hospital with Joey's arm wrapped around him and how he spoke to a nurse in the ER like he wasn't even there. Everything felt a little jumbled; hospital bed, needles from shots and taking blood, and doctors who reminded him of his father. His father was always so kind, reassuring, and gentle with his patients. When they were reconciling months after he moved in with Joey, he would remember those moments and want that same treatment. Why couldn't he have that? Then he would remember why he hated hospitals and there were hands on him again while a nurse tried to comfort him with soothing words.

Craig could remember this shuffle of interacting with people throughout the night. Joey was there (he wasn't here now, his brain reminded with a poke and he tried to ignore it). He remembered questions. First it seemed relatively normal, like they wanted to know that he alright after nearly drowning. Yes, he knew his name and the most basic details of his existence. Then it changed. There was another doctor. A shrink? He remembered him looking over his hands and arms, asking if he had ever cut or burned himself (no, he just punched out the mirror in his bedroom and that's why he had to receive the stitches). He figured he should stop remembering this and the doctor's other questions because it just made him feel helpless because his answers didn't matter anyway; they wanted to admit him to psychiatric. However he didn't think he put up a fight to be admitted to this ward. But he couldn't be sure as his memory was a fuzzy recollection of elevators, doors, staff members, and then Joey leaving him here.

This was actually happening. It still felt like a dream. It wasn't normal, it wasn't real. So Craig asked, "Can I at least have my shoes?"

"You are allowed to wear them when we visit the gym," Nora, the head nurse replied and then noticed how Craig looked a little bewildered by his new environment. Maybe he would find some comfort in knowing that the ward wouldn't be intense all the time, "You will have a lot of free time to do things like play basketball and there is a TV in the common area."

"Um, okay," Craig agreed in a soft tone and gave a nervous smile.

"The bathroom is right in here," Andrew said and steered him towards a door close to the nurse's station.

The bathroom. He was alone now. That was a little surprising considering what he had read in books and seen on TV. He couldn't help but gulp down water at the sink and faintly recalled doing so before in the private bathroom in his room. That one didn't have a shower however and at the time Craig hadn't even thought much of it. He took a moment to study his reflection in the mirror. He was here alone and in his head now though; processing how weird it was that they kept things like shampoo and toothpaste in the nurse's station.

He had to return them after his shower. What exactly was he going to do with a bottle of shampoo? Was it always going to be like this?

"You'll get used to the place after a few days," Andrew reassured. "How's your hand? Can I take a look?"

Craig extended the hand with the stitches, noticing how much it hurt to use the muscles to flex his fingers and how sensitive it was to touch as the nurse began to wrap it with gauze. "I'm not sure what hurts more my hand or my head. Can I have something?"

Nora nodded but didn't dispense anything until after glancing over what must be his hospital file. Craig figured that would explain why he was given nothing stronger than aspirin and the reassurance that if the pain increased, they would try to make him as comfortable as possible. He hoped his eyes didn't reflect the hope he had once hearing that, prescription medication names running through his head like he was making a grocery list.

There were questions about how he slept and if he had any trouble breathing. It felt strange talking so candidly about how it still ached to take a deep breath and he would cough; he did that because he had tried to drown himself. "Am I okay? Did you tell Joey that I'm okay?"

Nora smiled at him and reassured "You are going to be fine. Just let us know if you start feeling sick, coughing like you do when you have the flu. We'll take care of you. And we will be keeping in contact with your stepfather. You can call him tonight if you want to."

"How long am I going to be here because of what I did?"

"It's not a punishment," Andrew tried to assure. "You aren't here because you did something wrong and have to put in a certain amount of time. We just want to get you feeling better. Then you can return home."

That wasn't exactly comforting, Craig thought to himself. His hangover fog was lifting a little after the shower and things were starting to feel real. What was he supposed to do? He didn't mean for this to happen. Should he try to explain why he did what he did? If he spoke as quickly as he was thinking that would just make him seem crazier, he rationalized. Yesterday was pushing forward into his mind and he didn't know what to do with these feelings. Panic, fear, sadness, loneliness…

Despite all this, he smiled for the photo that was taken for his file. He always smiled for photos; shots taken around school while he was with his girlfriend and he was being the boyfriend, pictures at Christmas when he was with his real mom and dad. It was so easy to smile for photographs, like he was playing some role. Or maybe things were just better when they were in a photograph, stopped for that one moment of time. Most of the time photos lied. They put on a façade; he and Ashley weren't the ideal candidates for prom king and queen with his drama and despite all the toys he was given for Christmas that year, Dad's home was anything but joyful. But he smiled for this photo for his psychiatric file just like he smiled for the one taken for his high school year book

"It's nice to have someone smile for their photo for a change," Nora commented.

Craig shrugged, wishing he felt something with that smile. It was gone now.

"I ordered you pizza for lunch. That's usually a crowd pleaser," Andrew announced. "Want to meet everyone?"

"Pizza is fine. Sure."

Andrew led him back down the hallway and through a set of double doors and into what they were calling the common area. A couple of couches, a foosball table, TV; if you were to take a living room and make it clinical enough for a hospital, this would be it. He'd done his share of time in waiting rooms while his mother battled cancer and this felt the same despite the lack of fake flowers on side tables and pictures on the walls. He was waiting now, but for something different. The feeling was the same however. Craig just wanted out.

This section of the room started to spill into another open area that was adjacent to it. Small circular tables (he'd sit at these later when his family visited) acted as a midway from the carpeted area into the linoleum kitchen. This was what felt out of place in a hospital ward; they had a functional kitchen with a fridge, microwave, sink, and a chores and responsibilities chart he would later be introduced to. And they apparently ate at a large table in the center of the room like it was some bizarre Thanksgiving dinner. Andrew introduced him to the group, handed him his tray of food, and took a seat at the head of the table.

And his food? The pizza was one of the microwave oven varieties with the barely present pepperoni cubes. And the silverware was plastic. At least he was allowed a plastic knife. He didn't complain however. He was starving and realized that it might have been days since he actually ate. He finished his meal before everyone else had and then was able to focus on the people around him.

It was easy to pick out the friendships among this group of his peers. There were only two girls and they had distanced themselves from the guys by having a separate conversation. Craig noticed when the one with the bleached blonde hair with the blue streak looked over at him and smiled. She must have been here for a while; she had dark roots and the colored stripe was fading. It was harder to classify what clique everyone else would be in if this were high school. That's how it felt. Like high school. Everyone seemed normal. It was almost like sitting at a lunch table at school…where he was the new kid. He felt a little strange since he was the only one in hospital scrubs. And then there was the fact that there was a nurse sitting with them, only occasionally joining in on the casual conversation.

"What school do you go to?" one patient asked him and a few others took their guesses.

It never actually dawned on him that he could run into someone who knew him in here. He glanced around at all the faces. No one he had seen before. "Degrassi," Craig answered and got a few replies back. They were from a variety of different schools, some not even local. One guy's previous residence was juvenile hall.

And they were all here right now. Strangers brought together for whatever reason. No one had asked him why he was here, probably because Andrew was in the room. Or maybe it didn't matter in a place like this; they all had their reasons for being here. It wasn't Degrassi where the gossip was probably circulating about him at this very moment, his peers speculating why he wasn't in their classes. Craig felt a brief rush of relief wash over him and was thankful he was here and not there. He wasn't sure he could ever return to that school after all that went on this year. Why did he do the things he did anyway?

* * *

They had gone easy on him for the first few days of group therapy. Day one Craig listened…or sort of filtered out information. He only wanted to know the basics about these people because it wasn't his business to know what they did to find themselves locked up in here and they didn't need to know about all the crazy things he did or why he was here. Day two he got a pass and he met with yet another doctor. Day three they made him answer why he was in the hospital and let his short explanation be enough.

But today they were going to make him participate. Unlike the doctors he had met earlier, everyone called the social worker who led group by his first name. Today Frank had passed around a deck of note cards. There was a question on it but they weren't allowed to look until it was there turn. It was his turn now.

Craig flipped over the card and sighed heavily at the question. "What is your family like?" he read out loud, feeling exhausted before he even answered. "I live with my stepdad Joey, his girlfriend Caitlin…I guess she's my stepmom type person. That's what she introduced herself as once. And my half-sister Angie."

"What are they like?" Frank prompted.

He wasn't getting off that easy huh? "I moved in with Joey when I was in grade 9, just turned 14. He's always been great to me. I probably don't deserve it considering what I put him through. He's seen me through a lot of crazy times. So the bald dude you see visiting me at night, that's Joey."

"And Caitlin?" Stacey, the nurse who attended these sessions, asked.

"Caitlin is a journalist, works at CQJH. She's alright. I, uh, don't really know what to say about her. I like her. She's nice. It's good for Angie to have her around because she doesn't remember our mom and she needs a mom. Um, alright, Angie. She's eight years old," Craig laughed nervously. "What do you want to know about Angie? Her favorite color is yellow…because that was Mom's favorite. Her stuffed dog is named Snickers and her favorite cartoon character is a lobster named Scampy. When we play barbies…yes I play barbies, her favorite thing is when we throw parties. She's just an average all around great kid."

Craig's stomach was tight as he listened to silence. "I don't have any problems at home. I like it there." He silently finished, _"The problem is me."_

Craig's peers glanced around at each other. Which one was going to ask? They were all curious but no one wanted to put him on the spot and ask. They wouldn't want that done to them. "You live with your step dad? Step parents? Two of them?" Matt finally asked.

"Yes."

"Where are your birth parents?"

Craig sighed and stared off. Maybe he could pretend these people weren't here; the social worker with his files and his fellow patients who didn't need to know this. Frank and Stacey noticed when Craig's eyes glazed over, like he was checking himself out. The rest of his peers were just there and going through the motions, mostly grateful they weren't in the hot seat.

He was glad that Matt was the one who asked. During his first night hanging out in the common area his fellow patients wanted to know what he did to wind up in here. It took some effort to get him to talk about it and some of them had shared why they were there. Matt had explained that he was there because they were trying to figure out why he jumped around from foster home to foster home. Craig felt something at that moment. It was partial shame because he had a great guy adopt him and put up with his crap. Then the other half of him felt like he understood what that would be like. And maybe Matt would get where he was coming from as well, being without his birth parents.

When Craig spoke he couldn't help but sound distant, "My parents are dead. That's where things get kind of complicated."

He left it at that and looked to the person sitting next to him. The group was smaller today, just 5 of them sitting in a circle. Craig was baffled by this; some of them got to leave the ward? Why? Matt explained that they were part of another program at the ward. They also got to go home on the weekends. He kept having moments like these where one of his peers would clue him into how this place operated. Where was the laundry room? Oh, he couldn't be barefoot and had to wear a certain amount of clothing to bed at night? Was this even in that booklet that listed his personal rights as a patient and rules of the ward the staff had given him on his first day?

"What makes you happy?" Emily read her card out loud. Craig could tell she was silently debating this, a slow smile started to spread on her face at the first thought but she brushed it off and now seemed to be searching for an answer.

"And don't say drugs or alcohol," Frank warned before she even responded.

Emily rolled her eyes. "What makes me happy? I don't know. I like those moments where you feel infinite. That natural moment in a conversation or when you are just hanging out with friends, laughing and listening to music and it's like the night won't end. And I don't need drugs to feel that. Just saying."

Craig already knew what drugs she liked. That conversation happened candidly during one of their trips down to the gym. Everyone else had opted in to play volleyball while she had chosen the gym mats so he picked a moment to join her. His intention was to talk to her alone, despite already casually warned once the staff picked up on their attraction and playfully said to Emily when he was in her presence; _"What was the name of the guy you were interested in last week?" _ But he couldn't get her alone. They were never alone. A nurse was always injecting themselves into their conversations and the one in gym was about drugs and Craig learned that she went for the usual weed, alcohol, various uppers and downers, and most recently coke. That was when her mom freaked out, she had explained.

"Do you have any hobbies that make you happy?"

They were always asking questions.

"I like movies. I don't even mind going alone. I'm the weirdo you see sitting alone in the theater. I kind of started actually paying attention, really seeing what was on the screen recently and trying to make my own," Emily shrugged that off and continued, "But I don't think it's going anywhere and I don't expect to do anything with it. That's right, I don't have a plan. One of the things my mother is so frustrated about."

Craig didn't make eye contact now. It was obvious she had been pressured to talk about her relationship with her mother before, didn't like the discussion, and wanted to avoid it again even though it seemed to have some residue left in all the group sessions and conversations. This was their idea of helping? So they talk about their problems until the sore is completely drained? Is that how you get better? His foot started to bounce as they went around the circle.

"What do I like best about myself?" Rachel read out loud. She was slow to respond, folding the card up in her lap as she thought.

Craig thought that the friendship between Emily and Rachel was a bit surprising; he wasn't sure he would see the pair together in the halls of high school. Rachel was much more reserved in group and even when they were all hanging out at night. Emily frequently was being called out by the staff for breaking a rule or being 'disrespectful.' Yesterday Craig witnessed her coming to Rachel's defense during group and said the things she wouldn't.

Today Rachel answered for herself, choosing her words carefully. "The thing that I like best about myself is how aware I am. I notice things others don't and appreciate them. I see things in people that they don't appreciate in themselves. It's also my biggest weakness and I'm too self-aware. I'm more understanding of others and don't allow that for myself."

This girl talked like she was in a job interview, Craig thought to himself. He wondered how long she had been here. If he had enough self-control and common sense he'd try to mimic what she was doing. Regardless of what the staff said, there was a right answer.

"What is your favorite place? What the hell kind of question is that? I've never really thought about it before," Matt followed up with note card inquiry. "I've never really stayed in one place long enough to have one."

"Any favorite childhood vacation spots?" Frank suggested.

He wondered if Matt mentally skimmed over the list of foster homes, feeling like he should pick one of them. Or maybe that was just Craig's preoccupation; always debating between Joey's and his father's, feeling like he had to choose. He tried to clear his mind…a favorite place. It seemed like a fairly easy question to dodge. He could give this guy an out "Don't you have a favorite place you like to hang out with friends? Or the venue that has the best bands?"

"Sure. I like to hang out at this pool hall downtown. Okay, moving on to the next."

"Who is the most important person in your life?" Johnny barely hesitated, "My parents."

Johnny probably missed them more than the others did. He was the youngest one at the ward and besides for his small size, his answers reflected his age. When Craig first saw him, he found it strange that a kid this young would be locked up with teenagers. But then he found out Johnny was thirteen so he wasn't in a children's ward. A psych ward for kids Angie's age; that thought was baffling. Someone that young probably didn't even understand why they were in the hospital. He didn't care if they were that sick, it didn't seem fair. Yeah he was still thinking that this situation was a punishment, no matter how many times a staff member reminded him that it wasn't. He really screwed up and was paying for it. What could someone as young as Johnny do to get in here?

Now it was his turn again. How long were they going to play this game? "What was your last dream?" Craig sighed again. He had only been here for a couple days and each day left him exhausted. It took so much out of him to deal with these stupid sessions, whether it was group or meeting with different doctors. It wasn't helping. "I gotta warn you guys, my dreams are messed up."

"We won't judge you," Stacey assured.

Craig nodded. Yeah right. "I think my dreams are intense because I wake up so frequently. Interrupts the REM cycle, you know? So it's easier to remember them."

"What was your last dream?" Frank asked, echoing the question on the card.

"Okay fine. You want to know. I had a dream last night that I was at my dad's funeral. And I'm looking around at the people in the church and I notice this girl has a gun. It was so strange how no one noticed. I don't even know who she was but she knows me and she comes up to me before I can run out of the church. And she forces me, by gunpoint, to sit down in front of all these people and talk about my dad."

"Now tell us how you really feel about group," Emily joked.

Craig smirked. "You wanted to know. So yeah. That's how I feel about group. Basically you are going to get answers, stories, whatever it is you want by waving a gun in my face," he paused. Maybe it was stupid but he felt that scared when they were trying to get him to talk. He could barely get himself to do it with school psychologist Ms. Sauvé and he had been seeing her for how long? "The girl in my dream was so weird because once I finally said whatever it was she wanted to hear, she looked so pleased and proud of me."

"How do you feel about the girl's reaction once you started talking about your dad?"

Craig shrugged, feeling disorientated. "It wasn't any of her business, even if she was trying to help."

The social worker's next question started to fade out. He couldn't be here for this. He could see other mouths moving now. Were they talking about him? Or did they move on? He tried to focus and picked up on a few words that suggested that they were analyzing his dream. Craig shook his head, trying to loosen the knots on the thoughts that continued to spin and twirl around in his head. What was he supposed to do? What was he supposed to say? How was he supposed to feel about his past? What did these people want from him?

"Okay. Okay, I'm just going to say it. Announce it. My parents divorced when I was really young. My dad started to change after that. Then my mother goes and dies of cancer. She didn't just leave me with my dad, she had to go and leave the world entirely. And uh, things just got worse at home. Joey calls it a complicated relationship. But um, yeah…my dad used to hit me. So I went to stay with Joey. The guy that my mom left my dad for," Craig paused. He was strangely numb except for the occasional flare up of anger because he felt abandoned even though he tried to understand and rationalize the fact was that he was without his parents. And then there was the guilt that seemed to stab him as he spoke. He never really had it bad at home. And if he didn't leave then it wouldn't have happened. "My father killed himself."

Craig listened to the usual replies. The "I'm sorry's." He didn't try to meet anyone's gaze. He just heard it being said all around him. "And that's my tragic story in a nutshell. Maybe my dreams will be better tonight since I said what you want me to say."

"We hope that you will start to feel comfortable around us. If it's hard for you to talk in group you can write in your journal. That's what it's there for," Stacey said.

"The one I turn in at the end of the day and you analyze every single world that I use? No thanks." Craig already had feedback on his last journal entry. They prompted him each day with different topics to write about and his last one came back with words underlined and comments in the margin. Like what Ms. Kwan did for English class, only this time the criticism was about how he viewed his relationship with Joey (yeah, he still had that father hang up, thanks for the reminder).

"How about writing in it and then tearing up what you just wrote?" Frank suggested when he observed that Craig looked cynical. "You might be surprised by how much better you feel even by writing down what is bothering you. Keeping it inside…you are not free."

"And then it comes back again the next day. And the day after that."

"Five minutes of peace isn't a bad exchange," Rachel offered.

"Maybe you can start working through those thoughts as you write, encourage yourself of the bigger picture. You can remind yourself of ways to approach the situation. It's not going to get better overnight. You might always remember how you were abused and that your parents are no longer with you," Frank encouraged.

Craig stared ahead, trying to absorb this. He felt a hint of relief, like maybe he could be forgiven for the things he had done and maybe he could let go and forgive himself. Every once in a while he felt like things seemed manageable and his optimism he expressed in Ms. Sauvé's office was actually sincere. If he had more of those moments he might actually believe that things like therapy worked on someone like him and he would let the ghost of his father move on. But it never stayed. The odds weren't in his favor. He could never break even. There were days when he was normal but then he would end up in trouble because he partied too hard and got busted or couldn't shut up in class. There were days when he was normal but then the depression hit so hard it that felt it was like he was a physical battle (and it always won). What was he supposed to do? He obviously had to do something or he wouldn't be here. If he was doing something right he wouldn't be here and the staff wouldn't ask him each day why he was here, what he was working on, and if he had made any progress. They made it sound like he should have a plan. A goal.

He reassured Joey on the phone that he did. He was sorry he had been such a mess these past few years and he was trying to fix it. If he could just get Joey here to visit he'd see that he was okay now. Every now and then he felt that twinge of desperation. He had been feeling it ever since his mother remarried and he had to leave the Jeremiahs for home with Dad. He couldn't place the feeling; it was somewhere in-between fear and a craving. He needed Joey and Angie so badly during his grade 9 year. And he needed them now.

* * *

"Craig, you have a visitor," a voice came over an intercom.

He didn't even try to hide his relief and happiness. It was just like Joey to be late to arrive for visiting hours. He should have known and not been so hurt by not seeing him enter with the rest of the family and friends who flooded the common area. Joey didn't want him anymore, was the thought that immediately popped into Craig's head and he felt that familiar jolt of fear. Then he felt sadness; it was about time the guy gave up on him. The staff immediately picked up on his mood and asked too many questions. And Craig could tell Andrew was giving him extra attention as they, the patients who didn't have any visitors, were taken down to the gym. He wasn't in the mood and would rather sulk on some gym mats with the girls but Andrew challenged him to a game of horse.

"I bet it is Joey," Craig declared once he heard the announcement of a visitor and quickly abandoned the basketball.

"Come on, I'll walk you back," Andrew offered with a smile.

"I don't know why I thought he wouldn't be here. I think…I think that's always going to be the one thing I'm most afraid of. I sound like some little kid don't I? I don't know why I think that way. I don't know why I thought he wouldn't be here," Craig knew he was rambling as they walked down the hall but he couldn't get himself to shut up. He was just excited. Over this?

"I'm sure your step dad is eager to see you too," Andrew replied and watched as the boy continued walking past the nurse's station. "Craig. Craig!"

He didn't even hear him. He just saw Joey. Craig stopped when he felt a firm hand on his shoulder.

"You need to take off your shoes," Andrew reminded.

"Oh. Sorry, I'm sorry. I forgot," Craig said with an embarrassed smile. This place was so weird. He kept glancing up as he pulled off his converse sneakers. "Joey's still here," he couldn't keep from mumbling under his breath over and over. Why did he have to reassure himself of this? And why couldn't he keep the repeating thought in his head? He glanced at the staff as he handed over his shoes, worried about what they thought about him.

The only reply he got was, "You and Joey can visit in the common area," and Andrew escorted him down the hall.

Joey smiled at him once he saw him approaching and stood up to greet him with a hug. Craig smiled back and he felt relief. The kid wasn't angry at him for placing him here. And he actually seemed like Craig again. It was so good to see that smile. Then a loud noise from across the room interrupted his thoughts. Joey barely had time to process what was happening as a staff member was quick to usher him, other visitors, and patients out. He barely had a moment to observe a young patient hurling a kitchen chair across the room. Craig. His first thought was to get to Craig and keep him safe.

"What's going on?" Craig questioned, curiously trying to sneak a peek at whatever was going down in the common area. He only got a glimpse. It was the youngest kid on the ward. Johnny. And he was with who Craig assumed were his parents. He was trying to lunge at his father, but the staff was on him now.

"Craig, go to your room," Andrew instructed and Craig felt his firm hand be replaced by Joey's.

Craig nodded and heard Andrew clarify the room number to Joey.

"A lot of action out there," Joey commented once they were inside it. He said it with a smile even though the scene made him nervous. "Is it always like this?"

"Uh, no. Everyone seemed really normal until now. I don't know what's up with Johnny."

Joey had left the door ajar, not sure about the rules of this place, and they could hear sounds traveling down the hall. He should try to ignore them and attempt to make this normal for Craig. Earlier, when he had arrived at the ward, a staff member had encouraged him to keep the conversation away from triggering subjects; nothing intense tonight. Joey reached for Craig and pulled him into a hug. "It's strange not having you around the house."

"How's Angie?"

When Craig broke out of his embrace with that question they sat down side by side on Craig's bed. "She's good. She knows you are in the hospital and is worried about you, but she's handling it fine. It's nothing for you to worry about."

"I'm going to miss her in that spring play her school is putting on," Craig realized. He had been the one who helped Angie rehearse the songs and her lines. He knew the whole show well enough that he could basically accompany the piano on his guitar. He found it difficult to care about much when he was so bummed out this past month but he managed to try to be involved in whatever Angie care about.

"You'll see it. We'll record it. Have you ever known Caitlin and me to be without a video camera during these things?"

Craig nodded a few times. He hadn't really started to feel the isolation until now. Before it felt like he was just in a strange new situation like some bizarre boarding school with questions about his moods and behaviors instead of history and math quizzes. But now he was realizing that things were going on outside of here. People were outside of here. "How's Caitlin?"

"She's just fine. She's brainstorming a new project with some colleagues." Joey listened to the silence. "How are you doing?"

"Oh, I'm okay."

"Yeah? What's it like around here?"

Craig shrugged. "I'm still getting used to the routine of the place. They get us up at a certain time. We shower and eat at a certain time. We do different kinds of therapy…like group."

"Have you met with the psychiatrist yet?"

"Uh yeah. He just asked a lot of questions about what I'm like. That's all people seem to be doing, asking questions," Craig awkwardly informed his stepdad. Prior to meeting the shrink, a nurse had entered his room and asked the most absurd ones; did he know the date, the prime minister, and what province he was in. Some of the time the ward felt like camp because he wasn't at home and then other times, like that one, it was apparent that really messed up people ended up in here. "So far I've seen the psychiatrist, some psychologist, and then there's the social worker who leads group. Apparently it takes a whole team."

"Are you being honest with them?" Joey couldn't help but ask.

"Yeah. Of course!" Craig was quick to defend himself. It was a tricky thing, figuring out the right thing to say or do around here. It was obvious at times there were right answers. He felt like he was taking a multiple choice science quiz when he was handed a stack of papers they made him fill out. Did he prefer to hang with a younger group of friends or older? When angry was he more likely to yell or walk away? There were pages and pages where he had to check off what box was most like him.

"School is in the morning but I don't have any of my books. So I ended up filling out this huge booklet. It was like some weird quiz where they wanted to know everything about me. The next morning when everyone else was with the tutors I met with the psychologist. Testing, all kinds. I thought they just did the whole Rorschach test in movies. He even tested my IQ. I bombed the math section. You know how much I care about it during school, let alone for something like that."

"I dropped off your school books and some assignments tonight," Joey announced and decided not to tell Craig the comments the hospital staff made. He would let them reveal that Craig wasn't allowed wire bound notebooks and he wasn't allowed to read Dracula, despite that it was for his English course. "Each week your teachers will fax or email new assignments, tests…including your final exams."

They weren't expecting him back this school year. Wow. Craig knew that what he did at the pool was going to have consequences but it was times like this that made it real. "Did you have to tell them what happened?"

"They know that you are in the hospital. But they don't know the details," Joey decided to say and recalled how awkward it had been to be back in Degrassi's halls because of this situation.

_Joey seemed to pinball off of various people in the school hallways, engaging with each for different amounts of time. He seemed to attract Craig's friends, who were curious about the situation or felt like they should say something. He wasn't sure how much to tell Marco or even if it was his place to. He had already intercepted a late night on Craig's cell phone the day of his suicide attempt and had to inform the worried friend that Craig wasn't at home. Today he decided to reveal that Craig was in the hospital, he'd let him know that he had asked about him, and it might be possible later for him to visit. They parted ways and he saw him head over to Spinner, who gave him a small wave._

_Ashley was flustered and explained that she had too much to do to chat for very long and didn't know when she would be able to visit Craig; her mother was on her back about university, already wanting to plan fall tours and then there was this internship in London. She became more nervous when mentioning that; there was frequent tucking of her hair behind her ears and fidgeting with the books she held. Then she rambled about how she had known for a while but didn't know how to announce to her friends, to Craig. Then she wasn't sure she should go but her mom thought she should and maybe it wasn't a bad idea to try something new. That was something he knew they were going to have to tip toe around when it came to Craig. It was a bit surreal hearing Ashley discuss school. That wasn't really a priority with his son right now. Yes, he was about to head into the principal's office and attempt to save his school year. But university? Was that even an option right now? Craig certainly wasn't considering that an option when he tried to kill himself and end the timeline right there. Joey didn't know what to do._

"Do my teachers know? What did they say?" Craig asked with a nervous smile. They already thought he was nuts.

"I didn't meet with each one individually. Mr. Raditch will handle that. But I saw your art teacher in the hall and she asked about you."

"That's the one class I was actually prepared for finals in."

"Ms. Cohen showed me your final project," Joey recalled the moment.

_He recognized a few of the photographs. They were larger now, the colors different and some made into a mixed media collage, but they were the same as the ones he had seen in the photo packet he had found on Craig's desk. Some were abstract, fields of color, but the rest were clear shots of the swimming pool he was found at. There were others Joey hadn't seen before, hadn't even heard his Craig discuss. He didn't hear about how he took photos of a schoolmate in the school swimming pool; she looked asleep and beautiful in a dress that floated dreamily with the water's movements. Craig was inspired by Shakespeare's character Ophelia, the art teacher explained. His entire project focused on the theme of drowning._

_He couldn't help but ask the instructor if she had seen any signs Craig was suicidal. He had to know how the kid described the project to her. Was it some kind of suicide note? They had found him in that same pool, unconscious. His teacher looked sad, maybe even a little guilty. She hadn't seen the signs that he was thinking about suicide. When she saw what was probably a look of disbelief, the young teacher explained that she asked about his thought process while working but Craig never hinted that he was preoccupied with death, whether it be his father's or planning his own. He was more interested in discussing art materials for his collages or if the technical aspects of his color photos were correct even though Ms. Cohen made it clear that she was here for him if he needed to talk. _

"I wish I could be there for the final crit," Craig sighed. "I worked hard on that project."

Joey nodded, not sure of what to say. Ms. Cohen encouraged him to take the project home. They would not be discussing it in the final critique as it might be hard on some of the students. Ashley was in the class. Joey cleared his throat, "Ms. Cohen thinks you are a smart kid. You will pass with flying colors."

Craig smiled at that. "I'm glad I don't have to finish the project here. We sometimes head down to this art room. It would be awesome working with the kind of safety scissors Angie uses."

Joey didn't know what to say to the sarcastic way Craig delivered that. "Your art teacher thinks pretty highly of you. She gave me some photography magazines for you. You might be expecting more art magazines once school lets out and she's cleaning up the classroom."

"Wow. That's nice of her."

"We all care about you and are thinking of you. She's just letting you know that. Your friends miss seeing you around school too."

It took Craig a few moments to respond. He fought against the staff's pressure to talk about his suicide attempt. He wanted to push the memory of that away. But having this conversation with Joey was forcing him to confront it. His father's suicide messed him up; did the do the same thing to his friends? Craig kept his eyes on the floor, feeling guilty and ashamed of what he did. "What do you tell them? My friends? You told Ash, El, and Sean that I'm okay right?"

Joey hesitated for a moment. Was this a topic that should be discussed? "They know you are okay. I told them once we knew. And…they know what hospital ward you are in. I figured they should know. Or could know."

Craig nodded rapidly in reply to that. After what they saw of him, that made sense. "Are they mad at me?"

"Of course not," Joey decided to reassure and gave Craig's shoulder a squeeze. He felt like he was lying; it was certain that discovering their friend after a suicide attempt had affected them. But Craig wasn't strong enough to handle that right now. "They've asked if they can call you. Some of your other friends have asked as well. Snake mentioned the other day that he'd like to talk to you, whenever you feel up to it."

Craig shook his head. "I'm not sure. It might be weird."

"It's up to you. The nurse's station has a list of names of people who can call or visit. But it's always your decision if you want to speak to or see anyone. No pressure."

"Yeah. Maybe it'd be okay to talk to some of my friends," Craig agreed with a nervous smile.

"You seem like you are doing better," Joey couldn't help but say with a grin and touched Craig's hand. He kept doing that, touching him reassuringly on the knee, shoulder, or hand. Maybe to confirm that this kid was still here; he had such a close call. Craig was here and he was okay.

"Yeah. Yeah. I think I'm okay now."

"You look a lot better," Joey thought out loud. The dark circles under his eyes didn't seem so heavy. Craig must be sleeping better. He felt guilty and that only deepened that when the staff described Craig's day to day routine to him, explaining that troubled youth like him often lack structure. Meals were at a certain time and apparently they were getting this kid to eat them. He felt like he was neglecting Craig. Why did he have such a difficult time with him at home doing the most basic things? What was he doing wrong?

"I have no idea why I'm like this. Where I just freak out and then a couple days later everything feels fine. But I'm okay now," Craig rambled, trying to explain. He felt a spark of anticipation. Could he convince Joey to get him out of here tonight? His foot started to bounce.

"Okay…that's good. Just keep working on getting better," Joey cautiously replied. "You'll get to come home soon. Until then…do you need anything else?"

Craig refused to look at Joey and started to fidget. While he was meeting with Dr. Belfour, Joey had dropped off a duffle bag of his clothes and other belongings. He didn't get to have it until after the staff had looked through it and later explained to him that he couldn't have the oversized flannel pajama bottoms he always slept in at home because of the draw string. They wouldn't fit without that so he was stuck sleeping in hospital scrubs at night. He felt bewildered by these rules at the time but now it just angered him. He wasn't that crazy or desperate that he was going to choke himself with the string from his clothing. This was insulting.

"They wouldn't let me have my mp3 player either. Like all the time. I only get it at certain times of day," Craig said out loud. "I can't sleep without it on. And it was really obnoxious because I overheard the staff talking about what kind of music they found on it. I hated hearing what they were saying, like they were judging me for it. Why does it matter what music I'm into lately? It doesn't matter!"

"I know it's strange being here. I know," Joey tried to soothe. He had unintentionally made this kid upset. And he had seen this kind of irritability in Craig before. He pressed his hand down on Craig's knee to get him to stop bouncing his foot and silently pleaded with him to try to control himself.

"Can I just come home?"

"Craig, I don't think your doctor feels that it's the appropriate time."

"He barely knows me. We talked for what? An hour. You know me. You know me better than him. You are my…like my dad."

It sounded like Craig had almost said it; _"You are my dad."_ This was the first time he spoke of him like he had accepted him as a father. The moment felt bittersweet; why did it have to happen in this situation? "Yeah, I'm your dad. And I want what's best for you," Joey agreed and pulled Craig in for a hug.

Craig was stiff in his stepfather's arms. He hated this conflicted crazy feeling. How was it possible for a person to feel so much love and hate at the same time? Half of him wanted to clutch onto Joey like he was a life preserver and the other part of him wanted to punch him till he was bloody. Why couldn't he just take him home like he wanted?

"I love you very much. And I want you to get better. I promised your mom that I would take care of you," Joey tried to explain why he couldn't take him home.

Joey received a soft shove from Craig in return as he broke out of his embrace. The mention of his mother reminded him of his father; the anger he would have if he even uttered her name and the haunted feeling he felt inside when he felt like maybe his dad would love him more if he wasn't half of her. Craig was shaking now. He understood the complexities of his father's love. He understood how it was possible to fling someone against the wall and when they crumpled to the floor, kick them repeatedly. He also understood how it was possible to want to embrace them immediately after and apologize.

"Please leave," Craig pleaded with Joey.

"Come on. Let's not leave it like this. I don't want to leave you when you are upset."

"Joey. Please go," Craig warned. His stepdad didn't realize how much he was like his father.

"Okay. Okay," Joey agreed. He tried to touch Craig's shoulder but he shrunk away from him. "I'll talk to you tomorrow," he managed to say. He wasn't sure he could with how heavy his heart felt. He left Craig's room but lingered outside the door and heard the moment he burst into tears. It took him several moments to collect himself and then he approached the nurse's station. How was he supposed to explain this?

"Uh, Craig wanted to cut our time visiting a little bit short tonight. He seemed upset; homesick, I think. Can you check on him?"

"Sure. Want to check on your buddy?" a nurse asked of Andrew, who nodded and tucked a file away in a drawer. "Can you tell me more about how Craig seemed tonight? What was his mood like?"

"He seemed fine at first, which was so great to see. He seemed like Craig. Then he became upset when I asked him if he needed anything else and he understood that he wasn't coming home," Joey explained and then tried to shake off the situation, "I think he's just homesick and upset with me because I can't bring him home. That makes sense."

They both watched as Andrew headed down the hall. Joey wondered what Craig's reaction would be. Maybe it was that simple and Craig was merely upset that he couldn't come home. He tried to ignore the mental itch that something else was going on. He was used to that feeling; Craig frequently felt so far away, lost in whatever he had going on in his head, and he couldn't reach him. Joey exhaled heavily when he didn't hear any shouting once Andrew had entered Craig's room.

Craig looked up once he heard the door open. He clutched his knees tighter, afraid of what he would do. The figure in the doorway was a blur and didn't come into focus until he blinked to clear his eyes of the tears. He remembered why he tried to kill himself now.

"What's wrong with me?"

* * *

Craig hadn't seen it until now.

He was actually surprised that he cared. He was curious when Johnny had his meltdown in the common area but he didn't feel the need to ask the staff about it. He would glance at the door of the isolation room he placed in as they passed it on their way to the gym. He only felt slightly bewildered by it because when he asked his fellow "inmates" about it, they seemed casual in their explanation. This was normal here. When Sean called and asked how the place was Craig had described it as expensive babysitting. Cameras in the common areas, a two way intercom that allowed the staff to eavesdrop on the blessed occasion when he was actually left alone with his peers and without the nurses who were trained to ask questions; he was never really alone. Throw a temper tantrum like Johnny over there and you get put in time out in a bare room with only a mattress.

Johnny was out now, back in participating in group and his family was even here to visit again tonight. It seemed like there were a few extra staff members milling around, watching. He was watching too. Trying not to but he was watching. He hadn't seen it until now. And it was obvious that the staff didn't get it or they wouldn't have let Johnny's father visit.

There was a reason Johnny was that angry. They were all put here because something was wrong with them. Craig didn't know what was wrong with him but he had been feeling it for a while now. And despite all the screwed up things he did, maybe it wasn't entirely all his fault. He should get to be angry. Johnny should get to be angry. Craig was staring so intently at Johnny's father that he actually glanced in his direction. He challenged him for a moment, taking on this tall older man with the nice suit coat and the cell phone he was trying to avoid, before looking down at the floor.

Now Craig was starting to wonder about Johnny. Did his family even want to be there? They brought along his sister this time. Craig's foot starting to bop up and down nervously as he watched the father remove the cell phone from his pocket and glance at the screen before refusing another call. He wondered what he did for a living. Doctor, lawyer, owned his own company…someone people wanted to get a hold of. Someone important. Someone respectable. Someone who wouldn't mistreat their own child. Or at least someone who wouldn't be suspected of such a thing.

Johnny was all smiles during this visit. No throwing of chairs. No shouting. Craig wanted him to. He should be allowed to be angry. Craig was sure he physically flinched when Johnny's father reached out to touch his hand. He hoped he didn't say out loud what was looping in his head; _"Don't touch him. Don't touch him. Don't touch him." _He doesn't want you touching him. Not after how he treated you. The gifts won't make up for it. The extra time you spend together is fake. He's only being nice to you for the time being because he feels bad. But nothing has really changed. Don't be so stupid.

Craig flinched again when he saw Joey's hand in front of his face, snapping his fingers. "Craig. You here with me, buddy?"

Irritated, he pushed Joey's hand away from him with such force that Andrew glanced in his direction. "I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine."

"I just asked you if you need me to bring you anything. Need any more clothes?" Joey decided to say, feeling rather confused and a little frightened. This kid was going through something. Maybe this was the best environment for it to happen but he really would rather it not happen at all. The punching at walls and the yelling were the first things that came to mind on the list of what he didn't want the staff to witness but knew Craig was capable of. He had always assumed that was because of whatever drugs or alcohol that kid was on. Joey couldn't get Craig to meet his gaze now or answer his questions. He didn't know where Craig was emotionally at but it was a place where he felt he couldn't reach him. What was wrong?

Joey just kept talking. Craig couldn't hear him but he knew from glances that his mouth was moving. He tried to pay attention. Something about the clothes he needed, or school, or Ashley. He couldn't even focus on the idea of Ashley. He felt some kind of emotion, some kind of desire flicker inside him and then it was gone. He should want her to visit. He should say something about this. But everyone in the room was talking so loud. He couldn't think. Not with it like this. When someone in the room laughed, a sincere hearty laugh, Craig couldn't help but tense up. He wanted to grab at his head, his hair and tug, but instead gripped his knee caps instead. It was so hard to focus. He tried to find Johnny sitting with his family but then someone in the room coughed or shifted their seat and he lost them. The room wasn't that crowded so why did he feel like he was overwhelmed in crowd of people during the holiday shopping season at the mall? It took so much effort to focus and then he found them, he could see Johnny now. He just needed to stay here and –

"Craig."

Joey's hand was on his face and he couldn't help but flinch again.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm just tired. It's just been a long day," Craig tried to explain. He hated what he remembered of Joey during that moment. He didn't see the guy who had taken him after it was discovered his father was beating on him. He didn't see the guy who was struggling to help him come to terms with the death of his parents. Instead he saw –

"Visiting hours are over. Let's get ready for bed guys," the head nurse announced.

"I'll be okay," Craig mumbled as Joey continued to ask questions and embraced him for a goodbye hug. Johnny gave a hug to his parents and sister as well. As he left the room he noticed when Joey approached Andrew and the two began talking, their gazes on him.

Why did Joey care so much now? Craig thought to himself as he started to prepare for the ward's nightly bedtime ritual. Joey didn't care that much in the past. He tolerated him during weekend visits when he had his mom and he was with his dad during the week. And after his mom died? He didn't bother to keep in contact. He didn't want anything to do with him. _"Stay away from Angie, like your dad said." _Joey didn't care what price he paid for that mistake once he got home. He didn't know. And he didn't care.

It wasn't like it was the first time. When he first started wearing the black and blue bruises at school, he assumed everyone would wonder. Blue jeans and long sleeves and if he ever wore shorts, he was prepared to answer the questions with some sort of explanation. But no one really bothered to notice and if they did, it was easy to lie. Not because his father was doing anything wrong but because he was too humiliated to admit where the bruises came from. It was normal, he told himself at the time. He was just bad and that brought on the shameful thoughts where he would silently curse at himself for not doing anything right. Then in grade 8 his history teacher who had it out for him. There were so many lectures and phone calls to home. And he couldn't explain why he couldn't stay awake during class or why he couldn't focus. He always did something wrong. That was the constant in his life. He didn't have parents to depend on but he could depend on himself to screw everything up and make people angry at him.

Craig wished that he had become angry like Johnny. Screamed until he was hoarse and let the whole world know how much he was hurt. The kid had balls for throwing that chair at his father the other day. He never would have done something like that. He wasn't ever allowed to be angry.

What did Johnny do to wind up in here? He was so young. It made him nervous to join the rest of patients at lunch during his first day and it was strange not sleeping in his own bed at night. And he was sixteen. Johnny was just a kid. Why would his mom and dad leave him here? What did he do?

Maybe they deserved it. Maybe they weren't fit to love.

The kid in his dream last night was like that. In the dream, Craig kept wandering down the hallways of his high school, trying to get from class to class and that kid was always there. It was just a grade school kid. Short, he nearly tripped over him. He was basically invisible. He didn't belong there. But he was always there, blocking his locker. Playing a game of four square with another boy in the front of the classroom he was trying to enter. Finally he confronted the kid and told him to go home. He didn't belong there. The boy didn't become violent at first. No, first he resorted to taunting him. Stalking him throughout the hallways and cursing at him. He began to hate that child. He wanted to throw him against a wall and bash his fists into him. Then the boy gave him a reason to when he became violent and lunged at him, scratching his nails deep into his arms. He didn't ever get the chance to react. The burning sensation woke him up.

"Craig."

Craig glanced up and saw Andrew. His arm was outstretched. Reaching for him? What? His arms were burning now, like they were in the dream. He had to check them over when he woke up and felt the urge now. He was fine after he woke up but now? He saw angry red scratches, like he had been mauled by some animal. It's real?

There were more people in the room now. "Why didn't you do anything? It's not safe here!" Craig accused.

"Can you tell me more about that?" Andrew tried and was met back with a wide eyed look from Craig. The teen looked panicked and had tears in his eyes. For every step he cautiously took towards him, Craig took another two back. He was against the wall now. He tried to keep glancing up at the teen's face to monitor his facial expression but his gaze was always going back to the stitches still on his hand; Craig hadn't stopped with the scratching at himself.

Craig felt like he couldn't control this moment. The door wasn't an option. Leaving wasn't an option. He had to get out and there was no place to go. He glanced around the room and his eyes stayed on Andrew. He hated the shrink. Most days he hated the head nurse and the social worker who lead group therapy. The psychologist who he met with for the testing just asked questions and he didn't feel anything about that. The nurses rotated and he was starting to get into the routine of it but Andrew was different. He was the first person he met here and the first person who would take the time to go beyond the usual questions he heard from the staff. It was almost like he was a friend. Craig was one of the few left at the ward when other patients with privileges were allowed home for the weekend and when seeing how bummed out he was after knowing that his favorite local band was playing downtown, Andrew brought in popcorn and a movie. They were restricted from watching anything R-rated or intense and the pop was decaffeinated but at least it felt half way normal. Andrew was different from the shrink and the other staff. He saw him as Craig and not just a file. He saw more. It was like he cared. If anyone were to know that something was wrong, it was him. Because Craig trusted him.

"You are safe. You are safe," Andrew tried to reassure once he had ahold of the kid.

There were too many hands on him at that moment. Craig did his damndest to swing his fists. He didn't even care who it was at. Andrew was just like them. When he was brought to the school nurse by his teacher after arriving at school with a black eye, the first thing she did was call his father because he refused to tell her who hit him in the school yard. It never even dawned on her that Dr. Albert Manning, the distinguished doctor who attended all the parent/teacher conferences, would strike him across the face. And then there were the teachers he was around every day and they never noticed how much it hurt for him to sit in that desk.

No one wants to see what's going on. He used to try to leave hints, sometimes just in his eyes pleading that someone would see the truth and other times in carefully thought out sentences that he sometimes waited weeks to inject into a conversation. Even Joey didn't want to see it. He saw what everyone else saw; Craig was impulsive, he did things for attention, and there's probably something wrong with him. _"Stay away from Angie like your dad said." _Stay away.

Craig managed to dig his nails deeper into his own arm, unable to deal with how fast his thoughts were moving and taking him back to places he didn't want to go. He had built up this image of Joey so much in his head, putting so much energy into that "Perfect Family" scrapbook that contained the few photos he had of his mother and the many he had taken of Joey and Angie without them realizing. He saw so much in Joey…and Joey didn't care to even notice him until he was desperate enough to take those pills and pass out on his living room floor.

He tried to reach for the memory of Joey and how he had been there for him. It felt so far away from him. It almost didn't even matter. Instead it was what always mattered; his dad. Craig often had nightmares about his father; sometimes actual fights they had and other times there were dreamed up alternate versions, like a movie, where he fought back. Sometimes when he woke up he felt slightly delirious from the rush and spent a few minutes mentally rewriting the dream. He didn't just take the beatings because that was what happened in their house or that he deserved them for being the asshole that he was. He fought back, he yelled, and let his father know how much he hurt him.

It would be nice for just once, just this once, to be able to be angry back. It felt good for that moment to be able to scream. The consequences didn't even matter to him. He barely even felt the shot.

* * *

He woke up to that familiar sensation of his vitals being taken and the nurse's voice rolled around in his head. She kept talking to him and it took a while for her words to actually make sense. And it took Craig some time to actually acknowledge his body and move, as strange as that sounded. It was another few moments for him to realize that the psychiatrist he'd met a few days before was sitting on the foot of his bed.

"You were given some medication last night to help you relax and get some sleep," she explained.

Craig felt a little dizzy as he sat up in bed. After effect from the meds, he figured. He wondered what they gave him to knock him out like that. That was pretty freaky that it happened. Was he really that upset?

"Can I take a look at your arms?" Dr. Ryerson asked and noticed that Craig was a little slow to react before extending out his arms and turning them palm up, exposing the scratches he had inflicted on himself the night before.

Craig felt his senses returning to him the more he woke up. His arms felt sore and raw and he had even managed to break the skin on his left wrist; that was the area he had most furiously attacked on himself. Besides for the physical sensations, emotions were slowly filling him up. Craig glanced at the nurse and then back at the shrink anxiously.

"We had to sedate you to keep you safe. It's safe here. We keep you safe from other patients and from yourself."

Craig nodded in return, feeling frightened about what they were going to do next. "I'm okay now. I'm not thinking about hurting myself."

"Can we talk for a little while?"

He nodded again. Like he had any say in that. Now he just had to figure out the right thing to say and how much to say.

"I'll let you know when breakfast is here," the nurse said and excused herself.

The silence was awkward enough but it was also strange to be sitting here in his bed with the shrink in his room. It wasn't like this was a typical hospital ward. And in an odd way it made him feel more insecure, sitting here in his pajamas with messy hair and the shrink was there with his hospital ID card pinned to his suit. Then he realized what it was; this guy was an authority figure and he had the power to keep him doped up or toss him into that room Johnny had spent awhile after he threw the chair.

"What were you thinking about last night when you became upset? That you felt you had to hurt yourself to deal?"

He shook his head, trying to figure out how to explain it. "Things were reminding me of my dad, I guess."

"What about dad?"

Craig sighed. "It was just seeing Joey and all the other families last night during visiting hour. And it's just that…if it's as safe as you say it is here then why are you allowing Johnny's dad to be around him?"

"Why do you think his father shouldn't be around him?"

"If someone is that angry there is a reason. Why else would he throw a chair at his father if he wasn't hurting him?"

"Did Johnny say something to you in confidence? When the staff wasn't around? Something you want me to be aware of?"

Craig gripped the mattress for a moment and then fumbled with the blankets on the bed. What was he doing? What was he saying? "No. Remember when I was first admitted he spent a day in isolation because he kept freaking out. Why doesn't anyone care about why he's that angry? There's got be a reason. I saw his dad in the hallway before he got locked up…"

"What did you see?" Dr. Ryerson prompted when Craig trailed off and didn't finish that thought.

"Nothing…I just…figured that Johnny was that pissed off at his father because he had done something to hurt him. And then if you or the other staff members don't care to see it…that pisses me off."

"Craig, Johnny is not being abused. There's no record of any abuse. There was no evidence of abuse when he was admitted."

"Okay, fine. What does it matter anyway? He's just this 13 year old kid I barely got to know while in here and I won't ever see him again once I'm out. Who cares where he ends up."

"It matters because you seem to be seeing something in him that reminds you of yourself or something that happened to you."

Craig didn't like remembering how desperate he was when living with his father and how he never felt heard. He remembered how he took photographs of cemetery tombstones to bait his photography instructor into asking him about his mother's grave. He could tell her about his mother's grave and what his home life was like now. He couldn't remember why that never happened. All he remembered was feeling so helpless and worthless later. He would baffle his friends with questions about what their families were like and later snap at them when they asked about his, or god forbid, show up at his house unannounced.

He felt himself growing more frustrated, not just with the memories but with himself. Why was he still hung up and bitter about this? "I just wish that I had done something about what was happening to me at that age. No one cared what was happening."

"What do you wish that you had done differently?"

Craig shrugged. "Asking for help doesn't work. I know that's what people like you would say to do. Or it's like what teachers or magazines tell you. Go talk to someone you trust. It's never that simple."

"Are you remembering any specific incident?" Dr. Ryerson pressed on.

Craig ran a hand through his hair tried not to cry out of frustration. He never knew how to ask for help. He dreamt about it when he was asleep and awake. He crafted that "Perfect Family" scrapbook and lived in the dream that Joey would accept and help him. Craig flinched at the memory of when his father had found it; he was lucky he didn't kill him over that betrayal. It was around that time when he realized that he couldn't keep doing this, living like this under his father's roof. But what was he supposed to do? How do you ask for help? He didn't know. He waited until he felt trapped enough, took an overdose of pills, and passed out on Joey's living room floor. And even then he didn't tell him what was wrong. In response to the shrink's question, he simply shook his head.

"How do you wish that people would have reacted to the situation with your father?"

Craig let out a bitter half laugh, half sigh. "Saw that I wasn't the screw up? That I wasn't trying to disrupt their classrooms or their lives. There's this part of me that just wants to be heard."

It was then that it hit him. Craig realized out loud, "Oh my God…the boy in my dream. It was me."

"Want to tell me about the dream?"

Tell me about how you are feeling; tell me about your dream. This place was exhausting. Craig took a moment to simply breathe, remembering that the guy he was talking to right now was the one that would let him out of here. "There was this little kid following me around at my high school. He didn't belong there, so it was weird. And he was always getting in my way…playing in the hallways when I was trying to get to class. Just weird dream sequences that don't really seem to add up. You wouldn't see a kid playing with a friend in the middle of your classes."

Now for the part that upset him. It still rattled something inside him and it was odd how that dream residue still lingered. Why was he still troubled by a dream of all things? "I became angry with him. Or maybe he was angry at me first. I can't even remember. But it got ugly. Violent. I don't think I hit him although I remember wanting to beat the crap out of that kid and it was the crazy kind of anger that was hard to control. But the kid came at me first, clawing at my arms like some wild animal."

"When I woke up my arms felt like they were on fire. And then last night I…without even realizing it," Craig finished and looked down at his arms.

"Has anything like that happened to you before? You mentioned you have trouble sleeping."

Craig shrugged. "Hurt myself because of a dream and didn't even realize it? No. But I dream about my dad often. Maybe it's good that I can't sleep."

Dr. Ryerson nodded. "We're going to help you come to terms with any issues you have with Dad."

Craig didn't like the sound of that. "I don't know why I freaked out. I'm fine with my past, really. It happened years ago. I'm okay."

"No one said that there is a certain day or year when you are expected to be over these issues. You might struggle with them throughout your lifetime. We're going to help you learn how to handle them appropriately."

That felt like a daunting task. All of his thoughts were so confusing. He hated his father and fathers like him some of the time. He tried not to let it show, not at Joey's when he couldn't make sense of things after their fights or now. Craig's fist curled around the mattress. There were times when he freaked out at Joey's and he freaked out last night. His head was such a mess. He was angry, yeah. But then it was gone and often afterward all he felt was guilt and a sense of loss. After he moved out of his father's he spent that Christmas with Joey and his family. He was a mess, naturally, sneaking sips of wine and not belonging. But maybe deep down he liked that he hurt his father on that day. Craig wondered if he spent Christmas at work, putting on the facade that was Dr. Manning. Or did he spend it alone, bitter, and without him…and his mother Julia?

Some days he was happy with the latter outcome. His dad deserved that. But right now all Craig felt was guilt over it. He wished he had been there that day and could trust him. Why didn't he? Joey would have picked him up at six and it would have been fine. It would have been fine and he could have returned home quicker and then his dad wouldn't have had to kill himself.

Dr. Ryerson noticed the teen's agitation and his downcast eyes. "How are you feeling?"

Craig gave a small half smile out of embarrassment. He hated that last night happened and he had to have a conversation with this guy. "Overwhelmed."

"Want to start your day?"

"Yeah," Craig replied. He wouldn't ask this stranger if his freak out was going to come up in group therapy or if anyone had seen anything. Or heard anything. God…what was wrong with him? What he was feeling now wasn't new. He always felt embarrassed after incidents like this. He was convinced that people like Joey, Caitlin, and Ashley thought that he didn't try hard enough. It shouldn't be this way. It shouldn't be this hard to control himself. He hated this side of himself.

He was the last one to hit the showers thanks to his session with Dr. Ryerson and thankfully the rest of his peers were starting in on breakfast. Craig looked for Andrew as he passed down the hall, sheepishly pulling at the sleeves of his shirt to cover the marks on his arms. There was a part of him that was frustrated with the rest of staff but he liked that guy. He was sorry he lashed out at him. Maybe not the rest of the staff, but he was about Andrew. And about how he had been treating Joey. He asked if he could call him but the head nurse wouldn't budge on the rules; he would have to wait until the evening.

He was quiet and guarded while he ate breakfast while everyone chatted. No one was going to ask what happened? Of course they wouldn't. Did they talk about it later like what happened in high school? This place was so screwed up. It took half a day before it came up. Leave it to Emily to state the obvious while they were washing the non-toxic paint out of brushes the size Angie used in her daycare program during clean up after hanging out in the art room.

"I'm surprised they didn't bandage those up," she remarked and gestured to Craig's arm.

It wasn't that the comment was cruel. It was just matter of fact and there. Emily didn't seem to think it was unusual; maybe it was something that had happened here before. From the questions Craig was being asked, he was starting to assume that it happened more often that he knew about. But he wasn't like those people. He couldn't explain it any other way. He didn't know what else to do but roll down his sleeves. He actually forgot about the scratches he'd inflicted on himself the night before; the burning sensation like he was being imprinted by some ghost was gone and he no longer felt that itch to scratch at himself for whatever reason he thought he needed to be punished.

That was the only reason he could think of for why he did what he did. The staff wanted answers. Or that's how it felt when he and the other patients were sent to their rooms after lunch to write in their journals for an hour. At the top of a blank page he was prompted with a question; "how do I handle unpleasant memories of my father and what can I do differently in the future?"

When Craig read that there wasn't anywhere else he would rather be than in Kwan's English class during final exams. He didn't have the correct answer for this question and he was sure there was one. Of course he wasn't handling it appropriately, he knew that, Craig thought as he paced back and forth in his room. There was nothing to do but pace and absurdly observe every detail of the room. That was how he found something the staff had overlooked. Underneath his bed he found the corner of the carpet had been peeled back and underneath was a paperclip, something they weren't allowed. Initials had been scratched into the wall near the hiding spot. He did the only thing that made sense. He etched C.M. next to it and placed the paper clip back into its hiding spot for the next person. It felt satisfying to leave the mark that he had been here. After he left, he hoped the next person who stayed in this room would do the same.

* * *

The psychiatrist's office was nice. Walls lined with mahogany bookshelves that matched the desk with intricate carvings. It was much more comfortable than the plain room with fold out chairs he'd spent hours in during testing with Dr. Belfour. The arm chair in this office that he sank into was even fluffier than the couch in the dayroom at the ward. Craig glanced around a little, taking in all the details of the carpet and the fabric on the furniture. It was a little surreal. This room didn't belong here. It wasn't the first time Craig had been in the shrink's office but he had a hunch it would never stop feeling strange. He could only compare the feeling to being called into the principal's office at school. What did he do this time?

Dr. Ryerson got to the point rather quickly. This was one of the reasons Craig didn't like the guy; he remembered how easily the shrink was able to retell his troubled past. It wasn't that his father hit him sometimes or got angry with him (that was how Craig described the events); it was that he was physically abused. It never felt that black and white to him. While he was living with his father it was just something that would happen. Some days Craig was so hurt and angry about it that he wanted to kill him. But every time his father's mood shifted and fists swung at him he went back to being that scared little boy. And the really weird thing was that once he moved out (was removed from the situation, as the shrink called it) he started to blame himself instead. That only intensified after his father passed away. So it hurt to hear this doctor flatly state that his father committed suicide, like it was some dot on the timeline that was his life. And this session was simply another black dot being imprinted. This was another section of that file that was passed around from Ms. Sauvé to social worker.

"Craig, you are showing symptoms of bipolar disorder."

He just shook his head in response. He had an idea of what that meant and what questions he answered during the first session that made this doctor think that he was.

"Bipolar disorder causes dramatic mood swings. It's different than the highs and lows everyone experiences. When your lows caused by depression or the highs brought on by mania affect your ability to function, you are in need of treatment," Dr. Ryerson explained to his young patient and his guardian that accompanied him for the session.

He should have lied, was Craig's first thought when recalling their first session. He remembered trying to downplay everything. But then he couldn't help but be upset by the situation with Johnny. Is that why he thought he was bipolar? "I'm not usually like that though. That day I freaked out because of Johnny…that was just because I saw something in his situation that reminded me of my dad. We talked about that. I'm not crazy because of that."

"We are going to try to help you manage any issues you have with your past. We'd like you to start up some individual therapy sessions with Dr. Belfour that will focus on how you feel about events in your past and how you can address those emotions properly."

This all didn't feel like help at all. It sounded like it would hurt more than it would help. The sessions with school psychologist Ms. Sauvé would stir up things he'd rather forget. Group therapy here at the hospital made him feel insecure and strange. Craig looked to Joey, expecting him to look concerned. Overwhelmed. Disappointed even.

Craig was surprised that Joey didn't look as stunned as he felt. Instead his step dad looked relieved. "This explains so much," he said when he felt his gaze. The drug and alcohol use, the mood swings, fits of rage, and the problems at school. It all had an explanation now. And there was a solution, Joey realized.

"It seems so obvious to you all. It doesn't to me. Everything just always felt normal." Craig wasn't sure he was ready to feel a way that any different than this, even as shitty as things could be.

"There are times when you do experience normal moods. Other times during an episode you will experience a severe change in energy and behavior. We are going to start an initial treatment plan of medications to balance your moods."

"I think I'm just like this because of how it was growing up with my dad. If you want to know mood swings you should have lived in our house for a week. He had crazy ones and I had to react to each one of them. If he was happy, I had to be happy too and appreciate the gifts. And when he was angry," Craig's tone wobbled a little with that sentence he couldn't finish. He didn't want to describe what happened when Dad was angry and how well aware he was made of Dad's mood. "I never was allowed to be angry. I should get to be angry."

Joey wasn't sure what to say in response. Luckily the psychiatrist was quick to reply, "The talk therapy is going to help you work through these issues. It's going to help you understand what you are feeling and help you handle your emotions in an appropriate way."

Craig felt completely defeated. What was his next move? Say that he had done the whole therapy thing before with his high school psychologist and it didn't help? Why was he like this? Why would it help now? Did he even want it to? "I feel normal though. I don't think my mood swings are that bad."

"Do you ever have days where you feel more energetic? Euphoric? An overly good mood where it's hard to focus because your thoughts are moving very quickly? Or maybe you feel especially irritable?" Dr. Ryerson hit him with those questions again.

Craig shrugged. Sometimes he liked those days. He could get things done. But then there was times when he couldn't focus on the most basic functions. He remembered once staring at his phone, trying to figure out who he was supposed to get a hold of. Everything in his head was moving so fast. The room around him was still but he couldn't figure things out. It was sort of like being on an amusement park ride without the motion. That had to be because of lack of sleep though. Like he told the doctor in a previous session, he had a hard time sleeping and that will mess with your head.

"What about showing poor judgment? Making quick decisions that affect your school performance? Abuse of drugs or alcohol?"

"You could be talking about anyone my age. Are we all crazy?"

"You tend to push it farther," Joey spoke up and Craig glanced over at him with wide eyes. He was afraid he was going to say it, wasn't he? But why couldn't he say it out loud? It was in his hospital records and the file Ms. Sauvé sent over to the ward. "Craig, remember the party you threw earlier this year? And you drank so much you had to be hospitalized? What about when you pulled the fire alarm at school so you could take off to a rock concert 8 hours away? You were suspended for that."

He couldn't get him to meet his eyes now. Craig was staring down at the floor, scowling some and looking like he was lost in thought. It seemed like he might be willing to accept this now? Would he be willing to work with the doctors? "All this month you have been so depressed," Joey continued, wanting him to understand.

Craig nodded at that. That he couldn't deny. "Sometimes I just feel really low. But I feel okay now."

"You tried to kill yourself," Joey couldn't help but remind and Craig saw the concern in his eyes before he looked down at the floor again. Joey flashed back to the overdose that prompted the young teenager to move into his home. He had seemed okay after that too for a while too.

"It helps to think of bipolar disorder as a spectrum of moods. At one end you have severe depression and at the opposite end is extreme mania. There are many steps between them, progressing from a severe to moderate depression which shifts into a mild low. There is a more balanced or normal mood, which swings into a mild to moderate mania and then you are at the other end of the mood spectrum. Bipolar disorder is the cycling of high and low periods," Dr. Ryerson tried to explain again.

Joey was still surprised that he hadn't picked up on this before. He usually just saw the dramatic moments that would shake up the household. When he talked about them to his confidant Snake, he described them as rough patches because Craig always came out of them and seemed "okay." Now he was starting to realize that Craig's mood s alternated like they were set to tick off as if they were following the pattern on a clock. He couldn't help but feel guilty because he didn't see it.

"Uh, how often is it supposed to cycle?" Craig asked, still weary of all this.

"It depends on the individual. Some people with bipolar disorder only experience depression with milder episodes of hypomania. Others have more severe episodes a year. Some people experience multiple episodes a week, or even a day."

"I think it's been worse since I've been in here. But I'm not sure. I'm not sure of anything anymore." Craig was beginning to doubt every single emotion he ever had, like they weren't something everyone had. His were jacked up because of some chemical imbalance and just a disorder. Could he ever really trust himself?

"Children and adolescents with bipolar disorder often experience very fast mood swings. However it's not uncommon for an older adolescent with the disorder to display more classic, adult type symptoms. It helps to keep a mood chart. That will help you recognize if you are having an episode."

"It's just a little strange to like step back and think about the things I've done. I feel fine."

"You often will think you feel fine until an episode starts. That's why you need to be on medication."

Joey noticed how Craig seemed sad, so crushed. "You don't have to suffer like this. I know you say you feel fine but think about how low you felt on the day you attempted suicide. Or the weeks prior where you stayed in bed, like it hurt to face the world. It has to feel horrible to come crashing down like that."

Craig shrugged in response.

"I know the feelings of euphoria might feel pleasant or that you feel you are more productive. But not all the decisions you make while having a manic episode benefit you," Dr. Ryerson said.

He shook his head in disagreement but said, "Okay. Fine."

Joey sighed. It was like Craig's tone was more appropriate for losing a bet on a sports game or accepting the punishment of being grounded. It wasn't that he was being defeated on some argument here. "It's so hard to see you struggle like this. Do you know how that affects our family? We don't want to see you hurting. If there's a solution, let's try to work towards it."

"It's not unusual for an individual with bipolar disorder to fail to be aware of how their emotional instability affects those around them or impacts their day to day life."

The psychiatrist was replying specifically to Joey now, leaving Craig feeling stranger since they were discussing him. Craig just shook his head, not wanting to be a part of this conversation anymore. He kept zoning in and out; over the shrink's shoulder, past the blinds, and out the window where after a few moments he saw nothing. He could hear parts of the conversation at times before he wanted to go away again. Joey was asking the doctor about medications now, the dosages and side effects. It wasn't like he even needed to pay attention because he didn't have a say in any of this. There was an exchange of papers and the shaking of hands then Joey's hand was on his shoulder and they were encouraging him out the door.

"Want to come join us?" Andrew encouraged in the hall and gestured to the common area.

No, he didn't really want to. What were they doing today? Yesterday it was different than group. It was led by some new doctor or therapist. There were worksheets that asked about his routine in school and how he interacted with his classmates and teachers. Then they wanted to know about his family and what they would do together when he was discharged from the hospital. Craig was blank and could only think of to answer that he would spend the rest of the day with Angie and do whatever she wanted to do; barbies, playing house, and dress up were included. Then he was asked about what he planned to do long term to improve this relationship with his family. He noticed some of the patients were more used to this routine than he was; Rachel announced that was going to work more on the relationship with her mom and help her to understand what she needed at home so she wouldn't take all those pills again in a suicide attempt.

He didn't have a good answer to that question now either. Improve his family? He was destroying it. And now it was apparently some life long illness that they would have to put up with. He didn't want to do this to them.

"How are you doing?" Joey asked, rubbing Craig's shoulder. Craig hadn't said anything for a good ten minutes while they wrapped up the session with Dr. Ryerson. The shrink had excused himself rather quickly, leaving them to say goodbye as the nurse looked on.

"I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry. Bipolar disorder is just like any other illness. You can't control it if you get sick. Now we just have to work on getting you feeling better."

His stepdad was so quick to reply to that. Why did he forgive him so quickly? "It's not just that. All the things I do. If that was why I do the things I do…what if that's the way I'm always going to be?"

"Then we will work on that. You aren't alone here," Joey encouraged, trying to warm up for the goodbye. He hated leaving Craig here like this. But it was important that he didn't show any of the many emotions that were flowing through him right now. He had to pretend that this was normal. "Hey, buddy, you've got group to head to and I have to pick up Angie."

Craig just felt more guilt. This session with Dr. Ryerson felt as impromptu as all the others. They were fitting into his schedule and today Joey had to duck out of the car lot early for this session. "I'm sorry you missed work today to be here. Um, do something special for Angie today, okay? And tell her that I miss her?"

"Will do. She's been working on a drawing for you and I'll bring it by tomorrow night okay? You take it easy for the rest of the day. And maybe one of these days your friends can stop by. A day doesn't go by where someone asks about you."

Joey noticed how that comment seemed to make Craig even more uncomfortable. Should he say something? He should say something about that. "If you are ever up for visitors, I'm sure some of your friends would like to stop by. They don't judge you for being here. They care about you."

"I don't know," Craig replied, agitated. It was embarrassing enough that he kept putting himself in situations where Ashley, Ellie, and Sean had to rescue his ass. He didn't want to be the guy that needed to be saved all the time. And it was going to be even more awkward to admit to them what was wrong and that yes, he was that much of a train wreck.

No, Joey realized he shouldn't have said anything. "Okay. No pressure. Just try to take it easy tonight."

"Group just wrapped up and everyone's hanging out before dinner. Come on and join us," Andrew encouraged.

They wanted him to leave now. But Joey didn't want to. He didn't want to leave Craig here, especially during times like this when it was obvious that he was upset. It was difficult enough on the "good days" like the one where he hung out with Craig and the rest of the kids while they did arts and crafts on a Saturday afternoon. That almost felt like he was leaving him at some summer camp instead of a psychiatric ward.

But when he was distraught like this? It felt like he was hurting Craig. Or he was allowing him to be hurt. There wasn't a day that went by where he questioned if he was doing the right thing. And when he was notified that Craig had been sedated after what he called the "freak out over Johnny," it took hours of off and on conversation with Caitlin and Snake to reassure him that he shouldn't remove Craig from the hospital's care immediately.

"You are going to be okay," Joey reassured himself and Craig as he embraced him for a quick hug goodbye.

Craig nodded after his stepdad released him and said what he always seemed to say after things like this, "I'm fine."

"I'll call you tonight," was the last thing Joey said to Craig. It never felt right to say goodbye. Instead he promised him the next time he would interact with him. He even did this during their phone calls. Joey was at the main door now, waiting to be buzzed out, and couldn't overhear the conversation between Craig and Andrew. It seemed like he was comforting him. Maybe he shouldn't be paying as much attention as he was; Craig was picking up on his gazes and returning them like he was trying to communicate through his stare. The kid looked so sad. And he had seen that look before. Not when he had to ground him or break up his plans with friends for a family engagement and it obvious Craig was displeased. But he had seen it when Albert used to pick Craig up after his weekends with him and Julia. Craig never cried but something was always lingering in his eyes. He thought it was some message to his wife; her son either missed her and wanted their family back together or he wanted to stay with her at her new home.

He let this kid down so much. A nurse was talking to him outside the ward now. They always did that; apparently he frequently seemed that upset. Joey would nod in response every time. He knew he could call the nurse's station to check up on Craig's progress and was well aware of what visiting hours were. That wasn't the questions he wanted answers to.

He wanted to know when the child abuse started. Every now and then the anger would flare up in him and aside from wanting to confront Albert Manning and demand that he take out his frustrations on him instead of his son, he wanted to know how long he had been beating Craig. He couldn't do that. So the sore subject only came up a few times where he felt it was appropriate to ask. Craig's answers varied every time. Sometimes he understood the way he was treated was wrong and was understandably upset. Then there were other times where Craig seemed wracked with guilt as he explained all the things he did wrong and how sorry he was; and during those times he could not remind him that he was abused without seeing a burst of angry determined rationalizations. He wasn't abused, he wasn't. Sometimes Craig almost had him convinced.

He wanted to know why the bipolar disorder had to affect his son. The kid had already been through so much. With the child abuse, at least it felt like he could do something about it. He could stop that by allowing Craig to live with him and while that wouldn't heal all wounds it still felt like he was protecting him from further pain. He couldn't rescue Craig from a mental illness. There was control with sicknesses like the flu. He could do something about that. He could make him better. What could he do about this?

Joey entered the elevator and pushed the lobby level button. He guessed the only thing he could do right now was this and pray that he was making the right choice.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Excuse any bloopers; I hope I fixed all my name changes and removed any editing notes. This chapter is massive so I might have missed a few things. When I hit 26,000 words I knew I had to split up Craig's psychiatric ward stay chapter (and this chapter is still super long). So part 2 will be coming up next, hopefully this month since a large chunk has been written but knowing me it will end up much longer. It does have some sections I'm chewing on but let's hope I don't procrastinate for too long. Certainly not over a year! But hey this just proves to my faithful readers that this story doesn't have an end until I say it does.

This chapter is loosely based on a personal experience. A stay in a psychiatric facility likely varies based on your location and the size of the hospital. I have absolutely no idea what the Canadian mental health system is like. The group session with the note cards is inspired by a scene in the movie _Manic _(2001).


End file.
